Captainball!
by Pixelfun20
Summary: A series of connected/unrelated MCU drabbles. C4-6: The fight at the end of Civil War takes a deadly turn. Instead of aiming for the arm, Tony aims for the heart. C7: In the aftermath of Infinity War, Steve and Scott swear to bring their friends back. Whatever it takes.
1. Loki why

**Based off a comic I saw. I don't know the artist, but kudos to whoever you are. I cried. Then wrote this in the space of an hour. So sorry for any mistakes.**

 **Infinity War Spoilers.**

* * *

 _The Statesman_ was no more.

Debris floated everywhere, clogging up the previously empty space. Bodies adorned the wreckage here and there, all caught in various states of fear and terror. Here, in the middle of nowhere, the last remnants of Asgard had been destroyed.

He hoped that it wouldn't stay that way for long.

Loki's eyes blinked open, slowly. It took him a moment to recognise where he was, and another to remember just what had transpired to get him there. Thanos looming over him, gauntlet shining with both the mind and power stones. Valkyrie leaving with all the refugees she could take. Heimdall and Banner (in the back of his mind he wondered what had happened to the latter) attempting to fight the Black Order and failing fantastically. Thor screaming.

Thor _screaming_.

Adrenaline surged through his veins, and Loki's eyes widened to their fullest capacity. He tried to move in the weightlessness of space, but the emergence of a numbing sort of pain around his upper neck suggested that something was wrong. He tried moving his arms, tried to shift himself at least a little bit so that he didn't have to look at the bodies and debris above (no, there was no _above_ in space) him, but nothing seemed to respond.

It occured to Loki, then, that he was dying.

Loki had died before, so he knew what was happening to him. The familiar feeling of numbness that came with the body shutting down, though this time much slower than the time he'd been stabbed on Svartalfheim. If he was breathing (both Jotuns and Asgardians could survive space for a short period of time), he knew that it would be labored and painful.

He didn't want to die. It wasn't fair. He had _just_ gotten Thor back!

He didn't want to see Hel just yet.

So he gathered the last of magic, the last reserves he had stockpiled inside himself for a true emergency, and centered it around the snapped vertebrae in his neck, wrapping the broken bones in a green healing energy. He'd never been the very good at healing magic, especially for a break this big, so the best he could do was move the bones out of the way and repair the damaged nerves inside his spine so that he could move. Once his magic ran out (which would be very soon) the nerves would freeze and snap in the coldness of space, and he'd be paralyzed and dead again within minutes, but it would buy him some time.

Feeling rushed back into his limbs, and he was suddenly distinctly aware of a body brushing against his. He almost winced away, not wanting to be so close to someone he had let die, but another part of him wanted desperately to know who the corpse was, in a morbid sense of curiosity.

Loki turned himself slowly, and came face-to-face with his brother.

No _._

 _No._

He'd given up the Tesseract to make sure his brother was going to survive, and the idiot had gone and gotten himself killed anyways?!

His throat closed involuntarily, and it wasn't because of the snapped neck he sported.

Loki let himself move his hands towards his brother, cupping each cheek gently. Thor's face sported a multitude of wounds, his face trapped in an expression of pure anguish and grief. He was completely still, his lips beginning to turn blue from the lack of blood, and therefore oxygen, running through his body. His arms were wrapped partially around Loki's chest, dancing lightly against the damaged leather.

It occured to Loki, then, that his brother had died clinging on to his body.

Memories flashed across his mind, of happier times. Loki learning his magic and Thor martial arts. Playing hide-and-seek in the throne room. Making fun of the prissy nobles that came to visit Odin behind their backs. Fighting each other playfully. Prank wars that Loki had always won, save for that one time Thor had gotten Frigga— _Mother_ —to turn the floors in his room into literal lava.

 _I am dying, my brother is dead next to me, and yet all I can think about are those useless happy moments back when we were children._

Then Loki detected a shift in Thor's skin.

Breath catching in his throat, Loki frantically threw his hands around Thor's neck and searched for a pulse. For a slow, agonizing moment, there was nothing. And then there was a pulse. Slow and steady, but it was there.

 _Oh thank the norns, brother. You aren't a true idiot after all._

But they wouldn't be able to last for long out here. If they were healthy, Loki or Thor would be no problem transporting or flying them away, but Thor's body temperature was rapidly falling as his body attempted to heal itself, preventing him from returning to consciousness, and Loki's magic was entirely dedicated to keeping the nerves in his neck intact.

* * *

" _I have a plan."_

 _Loki gave his brother a deadpan look from where they were hiding from the current enemy of the month. They were pinned down; Sif and the Warriors Three too far away to help. Thor simply grinned at him, a look that meant that Loki was going to have to humiliate himself again written all over his face._

" _I'm calling it 'Get Help!'"_

* * *

Another memory. So useless. Why was he remembering those times?

* * *

" _Oh, a snake! I love snakes!"_

 _Thor bent down to pick him up, and Loki could barely refrain from laughing then and there as he prepared to transform himself back into an Asgardian._

* * *

Loki frowned. His magic was running dangerously low.

* * *

" _It's a rabbit!"_

" _No, Loki, that has to be a raccoon!" Thor's face scrunched up as he regarded the picture of the Midgardian animal in front of them. He looked over to their instructor, who only gave the princes a knowing look. They were being quizzed on the different types of animals in the nine realms. Midgard had always been the hardest. "I think, at least. Are raccoons black and white or brown and silver?"_

" _Raccoons are brown and silver." Loki announced as he shook his head, certain that his six-year-old answer was correct. "It's a rabbit!"_

 _Thor frowned, then grinned. "Well, if you say it is, brother, then you must be right!" He turned to their instructor, and in unison, they answered:_

" _It's a rabbit!"_

* * *

There was a shift in the debris around him. Loki turned, and if he had breath, he would've gasped as he saw a spaceship—one of pirate design, but a spaceship nonetheless—arrive at the scene.

So someone had heard _The Statesman_ 's distress call after all.

A little late, wasn't it?

* * *

" _Loki, that's not an apology. You don't mean it."_

 _Frigga folded her arms as Sif nursed a stab wound to her side. Loki just scowled, mirroring his mother as he crossed his arms. Sif had been teasing him, saying that he could never be as good as Thor._

" _Bite me."_

* * *

His magic was almost gone, and with nothing to propel himself against in the vacuum of space, he only had enough strength to send one of them to the ship.

His mouth moved, and even though no sound could be heard without air to carry it, Loki spoke.

"Come now, brother. Let's do 'Get Help.'"

He took one hand and draped one of Thor's arms over his shoulders, and used his other to turn them towards the ship with a tiny burst of magical energy. It had slowed down and turned its headlights on, making it an easy target.

"Get help! Please!"

He slowly drained the magic from where he'd been using to keep the nerves in his neck in place into his hands.

"My brother, he's dying!"

If he had breath or the strength to laugh, he would've at the irony of it all.

"Get help!"

And then he blasted Thor towards the ship.

Loki hurdled backwards as his brother was thrown forwards, and he twirled helplessly as the last remnants of his magic faded away. In moments, the ship and his brother were out of sight.

And all he could see were stars.

* * *

" _You are an idiot, Thor. I can't believe we got out of that in one piece!"_

 _Thor just laughed loudly, clapping Loki on the back so hard the prince almost tripped over his own feet._

" _You will be happy in the Great Hall, Loki. Honored like a true Asgardian king!"_

 _Loki blinked, confused, but before he could question such an odd and morbid statement, Thor's form flickered. A woman took his place, in armor surprisingly familiar to Valkyrie's. Loki reached for one of his weapons, now thoroughly alarmed, but she just winked and vanished._

" _Loki! Oh, my son!"_

 _Loki turned once again, and found himself wrapped up in strong yet gentle arms. He stiffened, then relaxed as he recognized who was holding him._

" _What's going on?" he whispered, disbelieving._

 _Frigga just smiled as she pulled away, cupping his face in her hands. Tears were falling down her cheeks._

" _Welcome home, my son."_

* * *

Thor's unconscious body slammed into the windshield of the _Milano_.

Rocket shouted to wipe him off, but Gamora and Peter hurried to get him inside.

* * *

 **The ending is open to interpretation. Let me know if you want me to write more. Review, favorite, you all know the drill :-).**

 **So... yeah.**


	2. Scott and Steve Why

**I tried writing humor. I don't think it really worked out. Please tell me what to improve on.**

* * *

 **Part 2: Scott and Steve Annoy the Crap Out of Everyone and Accidentally Kill Thanos, Part 1**

AU: Civil War never happened, but Scott joined the Avengers anyways.

Scott Lang loved his job as Ant-Man, but he'd had reservations about joining the Avengers. Not just because Tony Stark was on the team.

He just never knew he had would be given so many _opportunities_ to use his powers now that he _was_ part of the team!

For example, right now.

* * *

It was a normal Tuesday morning. It was 7:00 am, the sun had just started cresting the skyscrapers of New York, and Steve had just gotten back from his normal run. He'd taken up residency in the communal kitchen of Stark Towers, as per usual. No one else, save for perhaps Wanda, was up, but he hadn't checked to see if she was awake yet. Oh, and maybe Tony as well, if he was still working on that project of his, but he wasn't sure if that counted if the billionaire had never slept. Humming to himself, he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, chugged half of it, and moved to the stove to start up breakfast.

"It was at this moment, Steve knew… that he was too ripped to wear shirts anymore."

Steve froze. Slowly, he turned around, trying to find the source of the voice. It was familiar, but he just couldn't place it…

"Too ripped…. For his shirt…."

Oh. That's who it was then. Steve blinked, smile tugging at his lips, and looked over his shoulders, trying to see where Scott had perched himself.

"Scott, is that you?"

"No, this is your deepest desire."

He couldn't hold it anymore, and burst into laughter. There was a popping sound next to him, and then Scott appeared in his Ant-Man armor, giggling like a schoolboy. He took off his helmet, grinning.

"Hey, I got you for a moment there!"

Steve rolled his eyes, stifling another couple chuckles. "For a moment. That was a good one, but should you really be using your suit outside of missions?"

Scott balked. "Oh, well, if you don't want me to, then—"

"No!" Steve clapped the newest Avenger on the shoulder, still laughing a bit. "I'm joking. And actually…" his grin turned mischievous. "I have an idea for you to try out. Captain's orders. It'll be awesome."

* * *

Scott's Masters degree in Electrical Engineering and Steve's selective knowledge of technology were put to good use that day.

* * *

"FRIDAY, what's Bruce doing?" Tony asked, turning around in his wheelie chair as he moved to work on the blueprints of the newest Iron Man suit. He'd been dabbling in nanotechnology for a week or so now, and wanted to get the scientist's opinion on the first draft of the suit.

There was a pause. Tony frowned, looking up from his work. That was odd.

"FRIDAY?"

Then his AI's voice came on, and he relaxed.

"Advisor, justice. This time I was destroyed. Doctor. The banner at this time is "Argent Romeovka". I do not think this time."

Wait, what? Tony pulled up the coding overview for FRIDAY. He didn't see anything wrong, at least not yet. He tried to process the words. FRIDAY had called his 'advisor' (what?), thought justice was needed, said she was dead. Doctor… Banner? Was Agent Romeovka Agent Romanoff? And she didn't think it was time.

"What the hell…" he muttered under his breath. "Uh, FRIDAY? What's wrong with you?"

"I have a voice, a love, a bone. Plant Plants are unpleasant and unbreakable. But everything is fine. The road is dangerous."

Then Dum-E sprayed fire extinguisher fluid at Tony's face.

"WHAT THE HELL!" He roared, falling off his seat from the force and spitting out the foam around his mouth before he could accidentally swallow it. "Dum-E, turn off!" No sign of stopping. Tony ducked under his desk. "FRIDAY, turn him off! If you can even do that!"

"Dunham left the blow. Is this."

Dum-E powered off. Tony grunted, muttering swears to himself as he crawled out from under the desk, seeing his computer covered in foam. Wiping the foam on his face off, he swore again.

"Clean the desk off, FRIDAY. It's not damaged, is it? And make sure Dum-E isn't turned on again. I don't even know what happened to the guy."

"His job was shorter. I know you, yes, not on the computer."

"Of course I can't understand you," Tony muttered, facepalming. "Whatever. I'll go get Bruce myself and fix you up."

"Carbon dioxide should be placed in carbon dioxide. You do not hear the truth. I do not know."

Tony blinked, looked down at the foam covering the front of his shirt. "Whatever, I've been in worse shape. I'm getting Banner."

"You do not need to combine lost feelings."

"Shut up, FRIDAY."

Was that a sigh? Did FRIDAY just _sigh_? He'd never programmed her to do that!

"It creates a different Scott sound, I hope it will not be too long and will take the internet box, it does not matter."

"Scott? Does he have something to do with this?" Tony questioned, just as the lab shut down. The elevator suddenly was covered by a metal door, nearly taking off his hand with it as the lab went on lockdown. "FRIDAY, open the door!"

"Tony is looking at cancer cancer cancer. In fact, he had a bigger face."

Tony banged his head against the wall.

Dum-E mysteriously turned on again and shot him with fire extinguisher.

* * *

"Senior Doctor Banner I have a thirteen fighting lab."

Bruce choked on his pasta as Natasha raised a single perfectly arched eyebrow. The two had just been finishing up dinner (Clint, Sam, and Wanda were out on a mission, Tony was in his lab, Thor in Asgard and Steve/Scott had been out all day, so they were alone). The two shared a look, then turned to the ceiling. What was that?

"FRIDAY?" Bruce tried cautiously.

"Moria's cracked voice. Although I tried a word once. The sound," came the reply.

"FRIDAY's been hacked," Natasha announced once the AI had finished speaking. "Someone's scrambling her words. She's saying something about a damaged voice, and is trying to contact us and failing."

Bruce blinked.

"I'm not even going to ask how you got any of that," he muttered, standing up. "Are we in danger?"

"Not yet," Natasha replied slowly. "Either this is a prank or we are about to be in a firefight. More likely the former."

"Yeah…" Bruce trailed off. "I'm… going to go find Tony. He probably knows what's up."

Was that a sigh? Did FRIDAY just sigh?

"Tony Goat defeated. Thank you very much for my boss. You ask me once. Oops, wait! You can not do this."

"FRIDAY is very frustrated. There's something about Tony and she doesn't want us to do something," Natasha reported. Bruce shot her a thankful smile, and walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

"Oh, hello Bruce."

Bruce started, and turned to see Steve lounging on the couch, eating a pizza pocket. Discarding the fact that _Steve_ was eating a _pizza pocket_ , the scientist decided to address the obvious problem.

"Steve, why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"Apparently I am too ripped to wear shirts anymore," came the casual reply. Bruce paused, not expecting that answer, while Steve just stared at him with a perfectly straight face. The World War II veteran took a long, slow bite out of his pizza pocket.

"Okay Steve, what did you do this time, and is Scott involved?" Natasha asked, stepping forwards. "FRIDAY's on the fritz and you're in here shirtless and eating a pizza pocket."

"Can't a man just not wear shirts and eat pizza pockets without being disturbed?"

Natasha shot him a half-amused, half-exasperated look. Bruce couldn't help but feel a bit lost. Steve just shrugged, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

"And five… four…"

"What exactly are you counting down for?" Bruce asked. Steve just smirked and continued counting.

"Three… two… one."

The super soldier pointed at the elevator, which dinged open just as he did so. Out came none other than the famous billionaire superhero Tony Stark, covered in white foam and water, looking very tired.

Just before Bruce could ask what had happened, a pie flew out of the kitchen and nailed Tony in the face.

Natasha shook her head, smiling. Steve's shoulders shook as he held back a laugh.

Tony gave the three of them a long, hard look.

"I hate you all," he muttered.

"Hey, I'm not the one who did it," Steve shrugged. "But I suggest you apologise for spoiling the fact that Snape killed Dumbledore. You completely ruined the book for me."

"Is this what this is all about?! I though you said you were on Book 7, not Book 6!"

"Perhaps. Apologise?"

"Never!"

Steve shrugged, finishing off his pizza pocket. Another pie flew in from the kitchen. Tony ducked, and it hit the flat-screen television, splattering it cooked peaches and crust. And then his feet flew out from under him and he landed on his butt. Natasha just rolled her eyes and stepped back, motioning for Bruce to step back and let the two most famous Avengers (and their newest addition) duke it out.

"15 bags, one of those who do not eat. Roger asked. I have one," said FRIDAY.

"Shut up!"

Another pie flew out of the kitchen.

Bruce decided he had enough for tonight, and left the room to have some coffee (nevermind that it was six in the evening, he couldn't drink alcohol and he was tired of his team).

He swore he could hear Scott laughing his butt off in the background.

* * *

 **Okay, I confess. This whole situation was an excuse to play around on Google Translate. Everything FRIDAY says has been put through ten languages then translated back to English. Here are the rough translations (I tried putting them in order but failed a bit):**

"I'm sorry, boss. I am having several malfunctions at this time. Dr. Banner is currently in the communal kitchen, having dinner with Agent Romanoff. I do not think he's available at this time."

"I seem to be experiencing some malfunctions with my voice, boss. My antivirus programs are offline and I can't fix myself. All my other programs are working well, however. There is no threat to the building."

"Dum-E has been turned off, boss. Do you need help?"

"Dum-E was not in control of his actions, boss. Someone's rewired him. I suggest you run a full diagnostic on him. And yes, nothing on your computer is damaged."

"I wouldn't advise that. The elevator's been hacked as well. I'm currently losing all sensors."

"This speech impairment is getting very annoying. Scott, I hope this won't last much longer for your sake. And as Boss cannot understand me: Initiating Lockdown of the lab."

"I'm contacting Doctor Banner for you. Calm down Tony. Honestly, you're such a child sometimes."

"Doctor Banner, Boss requires your help in the lab on the fifty-seventh floor."

"My apologies. My voice has been tampered with. Maybe if I try just saying one word at a time.

Tony."

"Tony just hacked his way out of the lab. Thanks a lot boss; it'd be nice for you to actually listen to me for once. Oh wait! You can't."

"Sir, there are fifteen more peach pies waiting in the kitchen. I suggest you apologize as Mr. Rogers asks, boss."

 **Reviews!:**

 **Arwen347** —Thank you!

 **TinyShadowCat** —Continued. I hope you were too disappointed with this, I've never written humor like this before.

 **Hannitah** —Continued. Thanks for the review :-).

 **FlareOfTheMidnightPanther** —Hey! What a nice surprise! I didn't know you were in the Marvel Fandom too. Excited to see more of you.

 **Celtic Silver** —More of my Warriors friends are here. Yay! No one could ever understand us, indeed. Don't worry about taking a while with the characters for SOS (See what I did there); I know very well what it's like to be extremely busy.

 **I have a poll on my profile for the next chapter of Captainball. I have lots of ideas, and want to get your guys' opinion. Go crazy on there!**

 **So… yeah.**


	3. Thor seriously why

**Eyy guess who's back! I wrote this all while half-asleep, so apologies for any major mistakes.**

* * *

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* * *

 **Part 4:** During the fight with Ultron, Steve and Thor 'accidentally' switch weapons. Chaos ensues and Pietro lives

Steve sighed as he stepped outside of the lab that housed the other Avengers, feeling a headache starting to come on. He sighed, leaning against a wall and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Ultron? Really? Just when he thought he had enough to deal with…. He was going to have to call Sam and ask him to look into that lead of Bucky being in Tokyo on his own.

Footsteps came in, and the young leader looked up to see Thor entering the hallway, looking like he was both completely exhausted and energized at the same time. How was it possible that the thousand year old god acted younger than him? Steve was twenty-seven, though half the time he felt his true ninety-three years. Sometimes even older than that.

"Anthony is tracking down Ultron as we speak," Thor announced at a reasonable level, nowhere near his usual bellow. "We'll be heading out shortly, I suppose."

"Wonderful," Steve muttered. They fell into a brief silence before the god of thunder spoke up again.

"So." His voice now held a measure of mirth in it. Steve looked up. "You put on convincing act back there. When do you plan to tell them that you can actually wield Mjolnir?"

Steve couldn't help the small blush that tinged his cheeks. "When I can hold it without accidentally destroying a small mountain range? Besides, _I'm_ still trying to adjust to the fact that I could technically challenge you for the throne of Asgard. Who knows how the others would react."

"Nonsense! That one time in the Alps doesn't count. You were startled!"

"By a deer. A _deer_ , Thor."

"You were under stress and trying to funnel my powers through Mjolnir for only the second time. You were simply a bit overwhelmed. Completely normal."

"I blew up a small mountain."

"It was only a small hill."

"Mountain."

"Hill. The mountains in Asgard can reach up to ten miles high!"

"I give up."

"That would be in your best interest." Thor's eyes twinkled, and despite of it all, Steve let out a short bark of laughter. "You forget that I am a prince, Steven. I have been trained in politics and debate."

Steve gave him a hard look. Thor's expression become more sheepish.

"We are going to go through with the plan, though, right?" He was quick to change the subject.

"Which one?"

"The Plan of Shock Factors!"

Steve balked. "Didn't we _literally_ just go through why that plan isn't a good idea?"

"Come now, it would be of great enjoyment for the two of us!"

"We couldn't do it anyways. You and I'd probably kill everyone."

"But what if we _could_? I would love to see the expressions on our comrades' faces!"

"Thor, no."

"Thor, _yes_!"

The two of them entered into a small staring contest just as Clint entered the hallway. The archer coughed awkwardly, noting Thor's grin and Steve's disapproving frown.

"Um," He looked between the two of them. "We're heading out, so can you save whatever spat you're having for _after_ we kill the evil mutant robot?"

"It will depend on what the Captain has to say," Thor announced, still smiling. Steve sighed. Of _course_ he had to cave in now, or Thor would tell the rest of the team about the plan. And that would be a bad idea. He still didn't believe Thor had paid any attention in any political classes he may or may not have taken, but then there were times like this. He decided that it was more likely that he picked up a bit of manipulation and trickery from Loki.

"We'll _see_ ," he huffed, walking past Thor and a very confused Clint.

No matter what he said, Steve Rogers was most definitely not going through Plan S - Shock Factor.

* * *

"What do you think about going through with Plan S?"

Steve ducked the attack of an incoming Ultron Bot and smashed its head in his shield as he spoke, doing everything possible to not look at the person next to him and admit defeat. Thor gave him a triumphant look, as if to say ' _I told you so'_ as he destroyed around half a dozen bots. Steve scowled and tore down three bots of his own, ducking as Mjolnir whizzed over his head and took out five more with a burst of lightning.

"Most of the Sokovian citizens in this location seem to have been evacuated," Thor seemed to be holding down laughter. "Just focus your energy, my friend!"

"And don't lose my shield!" Steve snapped back, though his lips were starting to curve upwards as well.

 _We are all going to die_.

So Plan S was set into motion. Mjolnir flew back into Thor's hand, and he immediately threw it again, taking out several bots in the process. Steve tossed his shield into the air, turned off his magnetized gauntlets so he couldn't accidentally call it back, and raised a hand, concentrating with all his might. In the middle of taking out an Ultron Bot, Mjolnir twitched, then whizzed into into Steve's hand. At the same moment, Thor jumped forwards with a laugh, grabbing the shield and bashing a bot's chest in with it as if it were some kind of club.

The power was overwhelming. Lightning crackled through his veins, and before he knew it, a small explosion sounded, blowing up everyone and everything in a ten-foot radius except him and Thor, who just laughed at how Steve's hair was scorched and on end. He tossed the shield blindly, racing after a stray Ultron Bot, quickly running out of sight.

"This was _such_ a bad idea," Steve muttered, flipping Mjolnir in his hand and trying to let the hammer guide him in his movements, just as Thor had tried to teach him.

" _Uh, what was that?_ " Clint's voice echoed in over the comms. " _Thor, did you just blow something up_?"

Steve groaned audibly as Mjolnir thrust forwards, taking the supersoldier with it and zapping ten more bots with a much stronger blast than it usually garnered. Thor's laugh echoed through the communicator. He was enjoying this way too much, Steve decided.

" _Nay, Hawkeye!_ "

" _Was that Cap's shield? Rolling around on the ground?_ " Natasha asked, pausing to grunt as she no doubt dispatched of another enemy. " _Thor, why are you chasing Cap's shield like a duck? Where's Cap?_ "

"Well, there is an explanation for this—" Steve clipped the last word short as he ducked under an Ultron Bot and attempted to zap it with a lightning bolt, accidentally destroying an apartment building. "Aw, _shit_."

" _Woah!_ " Tony commented. " _Was that you, Cap?_ "

"Plan S," Steve grunted, swinging Mjolnir at another robot. He'd taken care of almost all the bots in the area now, only having to deal with five more crawling around the rubble of the city. "See, I may not have been completely honest at the party from a couple days ago."

" _Cap, not honest?! The world's coming to an end, folks!_ "

" _I feel like I'm missing something…_ " Wanda cut in. " _Are you guys always like this when saving the world?_ "

"Shut it, Tony. And Wanda, not—" He grunted, and a spray of lightning burst out of Mjolnir and blew up a couple cars and the last of the Ultron Robots near him. "Not usually."

" _You're a dirty liar_ ," Tony huffed. " _Bantering keeps us loose, kid. Helps us focus._ "

" _Ey, guess who's wielding Mjolnir!_ " Clint cheered. " _You owe me fifty bucks, Rhodes! I told you Cap was faking it!_ " There was a grunt. " _And now to get this last kid, then my sector will be clear…_ "

" _Come on, Cap_ ," Rhodey complained. " _Can you just have one impure thought?_?

" _We have a problem, sirs_ ," Vision warned. " _Ultron's main body seems to have hijacked the Quinjet._ "

" _I see it!_ " Clint called. " _It's getting awfully close to me and the kid, guys!_ "

" _I got it!_ " Thor cheered. Steve looked up, just seeing the Quinjet around a hundred meters away and spraying bullets everywhere. Then a small speck rushed towards it, hit the plane, and there was a small groaning sound before the Quinjet fell back to Sokovia, exploding into a fiery inferno.

" _How did you_ do _that?_ " Pietro asked, seeming to be half in disbelief and shock. Then there was an undignified yelp and a distant clanging sound. " _Okay, does this shield have something against me? It almost decapitated me!_ "

" _Cap's shield doesn't really obey the laws of physics,_ " Clint grunted. " _I'm not surprised if it's sentient as well. My sector's clear and we're ready for evacuation._ "

" _Make sure you grab the shield,"_ Natasha advised. " _That's the best route to getting on the good side of the Avengers team. Just ask Falcon. Or Coulson."_

" _Today has been a mighty victory, my friends!_ " Thor cheered. " _Captain, since you have Mjolnir, would you mind destroying the reactor core_?"

"You sure about that?" Steve asked, though he was already running to the church in the center of the city. "Didn't we just talk about how I accidentally blew up a mountain in the Alps last time I tried to channel all your power?"

" _It was a hill, my friend! I thought we had already gone over this! And isn't the purpose of this plan to blow up a hill?_ "

" _How long has it_ been _since you first lifted the hammer?!_ " Tony exclaimed, followed by a distant crash. " _And how soon until you're at the church?_ "

"Momentarily," Steve hummed and tilted his head as he jumped over a crushed car, trying to remember. "Was it the mission in Cambodia?"

" _No, my friend,_ " Thor put in. " _Hawkeye was there! I believe it was Finland. Just the two of us. It got cold, I believe, and since Mjolnir is made from a star it is constantly warm! So Steve touched the handle to warm up his hands, we got caught off-guard and attacked, and he blew up everything in a mile-long radius!_ "

" _Jesus!_ " Tony muttered. " _That was only, like eight months after the team was formed?_ "

" _So that's why Evijärvi lake suddenly got so much bigger,_ " Natasha mused.

" _Why in the world did you think it was a good idea for us to try and pick it up at the party, then?_ " Clint asked.

" _None of you were going to be able to lift it!_ " Thor protested. " _And the Captain was going to fake it!_ "

" _Rude._ "

" _Vision, Hulk and I have destroyed Ultron's main form, and are taking care of the last drones as we speak_ ," Wanda reported.

" _Good job,_ " Natasha congratulated her. " _More congratulations will be due once we're done. My sector is clear and I'm on an escape ship. Steve?_ "

"I'm here," the young leader huffed, out of breath as he entered the small church. "I really don't know how you expect me to go through with or survive this, Thor."

" _Welp, I've just destroyed the inner core_ ," Tony announced just as the city started to plummet. Steve's stomach leapt up to his throat " _So you better figure this out!_ "

" _You can fly with Mjolnir's help, remember?_ " The god of thunder still seemed to chipper for Steve's current mood. " _Now someone scare the good Captain!_ "

"Wha—"

Before he could even process the command, a guy in an old Red Skull mask appeared in front of him and punched him in the face.

Steve screamed.

The church blew up.

Sokovia began to vaporize.

Just as Thor had predicted, Mjolnir didn't move when the city fell further down into the lake, lifting up Steve by a hand as the city disintegrated.

It took Steve a moment to notice that, as they floated in midair, there was a second body attached to his. He looked down to see Pietro hanging onto his left ankle, in an old plastic Red Skull mask that covered only his face and was attached by a string and holding his shield in one hand. The young Sokovian let out a nervous laugh and pulled up the mask.

"Let's never do this again," Pietro announced. "Sorry for punching you in the face. It was the first thing I could think of."

"Where did you even _get_ that?" Steve asked, massaging his jaw with his free hand. The kid could his hard. Pietro shrugged.

"It was lying in the street. I have no idea why."

" _What did you do?_ " Wanda asked.

" _Captain just screamed like a little girl,_ " Thor chortled like a seven year old.

"I did not," Steve defended himself.

" _You did,_ " Rhodey confirmed. " _Sounded amazing, though._ "

"I found a Red Skull mask and punched him in the face," Pietro explained to his sister. There was a moment's silence, then Clint and Thor began laughing at the same time, sounding as if they were both about to die.

"Well, this has been _fun_ ," Steve sighed. "But can someone get a plane over here? I don't have a good track record with piloting things."

" _Agent_ _Hill's on her way_ ," Natasha reported.

" _Wanda, Pietro, have either of you had Shawarma before?"_ Tony asked out of the blue. Steve turned and saw the red speck of his Iron Man suit shooting out of the lake.

"No…?" Pietro answered, confused.

" _Good. We're getting Shawarma, then_."

All of the original Avengers groaned.

" _What?!_ "

* * *

 **I know what the next chapter will be, but I'll rework the poll so you can vote for chapters 4 and 5. I'm around 1,000 words in with Chapter 3 and I'm hoping this one-shot will be around 6,000-7,000, so give me a couple weeks. It'll be really good, trust me. *Evil laughter/crying.***

 **Please vote in the polls! It will tell me how you want this story to go!**

 **If you have an original idea, suggest it! I may not write it, but I will certainly consider it.**

 **Reviews!:**

 **Anonymushroom** —Your name made me laugh. I showed it to my friends and they laughed too. Thanks for liking Chapter 2, and I hope you liked 3 as well!

 **Flare** —I saw a Tumblr post on that. I may make that a chapter later on; thanks for the idea!

 **So... yeah. Please help out Agent Walker 05, and tell her I recommended you!**


	4. tONY wHY Part 1

**This was getting too long, so I'm making it a multi-parter.**

 **I did my best to make this short story neutral towards both Team Cap and Team Iron Man. If anything, I think the second part will be a bit negative towards both teams. Tony is** _ **not**_ **the bad guy, he made a mistake that has consequences, but he'll have help to get over it. Steve is** _ **not**_ **the hero, he also made a mistake that has consequences. There will also be little mention of whether the Sokovia Accords actually worked or not. I am** _ **not**_ **opening that can of worms, thank you very much.**

 **However, a lot of this story will take place in Sam's POV. So Sam will portray Tony in a negative light whenever he thinks about him (again, more of this will be in later chapters). I would like to remind all readers that Tony being represented like this is** _ **not**_ **the reality.**

 **Hopefully, thanks to this A/N, I don't get a Team Cap stan or a Team Iron Man stan flaming me.**

 **Anyways, read, review, and cry. I won't judge.**

* * *

 **Part 3:**

T'Challa knew, the moment he stepped into the abandoned HYDRA facility, that something was very, very wrong.

Zemo was in his custody now, waiting to be transferred the United Nations where he would stand trial. T'Challa had made certain that there was no chance that the Sokovian man could escape before he had gone back in to see what the three Avengers fighting in the facility had been up to. Part of him wanted to see who had won, but the majority wanted to make sure everyone was relatively unharmed over the misunderstanding. And, of course, he had to apologise to Barnes.

Shame tugged at his heart, forcing T'Challa to force his mind away from such matters lest he let his stoic mask falter. Barnes. T'Challa had almost killed an innocent man who was only trying to rebuild his ruins of a life, and had guaranteed that Captain America and his allies would be labelled as fugitives. Not only was it morally wrong, but T'Challa felt that it would be his duty to make sure that Barnes got his chance at rehabilitation.

But the Siberian base was eerily silent, especially since it was supposed to be hosting three very loud fighting superheroes. T'Challa was immediately on guard as he walked through the dimly lit hallways, silent as the air that drifted through it. Nothing.

Then something.

A distant whirring thrummed through the facility, and T'Challa stood up straight and still as he listened to try and identify the sound though several feet of solid steel. A jet, Stark Industries issued, most likely. Wakadan technology was much more quiet than that; T'Challa never would have heard it coming. After a moment, the whirring developed into a steady roar, and then quieted, signalling that the jet was gone.

T'Challa let out a breath. The fight was over, then. Someone had won. Most likely Stark, since there was only one jet leaving and not the rocket thrusters of the Iron Man suit. Captain America and Barnes would be in UN captivity by morning. It was a pity, but he'd do his best to make sure they received due treatment. He moved to leave, knowing that he shouldn't stay here any longer than possible, but paused again.

Something was still off.

Knowing his conscience wouldn't let him leave without figuring what was setting off this sixth sense, T'Challa let out a soft sigh, moving into a room with a ceiling went several floors, all the way through to the freezing surface. Pausing to let his instincts tell him where to go, T'Challa moved towards a side room, with slitted steel walls that revealed the howling Russian wind and snow outside.

Then, he heard it. Ragged, wet breaths.

Alarm firing up the adrenaline in his body, T'Challa rushed to find the source of the breathing. It only took him a moment to find the body lying in a pool of blood. T'Challa rushed forwards, taking off the helmet of his Black Panther suit as he did so and tossing it to the side, knowing that if the figure saw him in the helmet he may panic.

The man he immediately identified as Barnes, and T'Challa's heart seemed to drop to his feet. He was lying on the ground, blood splattered over his black jacket and metal arm, staining the prosthetic limb a bright red. The other arm was slumped weakly over the source of the blood, as if he had desperately tried to prevent himself from losing more blood. His eyes were closed, and the breaths he had heard earlier were ragged and uneven, obviously taking up most of his energy. The blood seemed to be originating from a wound in the chest, and T'Challa wasted no time in brushing aside the organic arm and hurriedly tearing open the jacket with superhuman ease.

He winced back almost immediately, despite himself. There was a huge gash in Barnes' chest, which must've been only three or four inches left of the heart, on the lung. It was half-cauterized, which probably was the only reason Barnes had survived this long, and even that had to only be because whatever had hit him had been extremely hot and Barnes' healing factor was rapidly trying to replace the blood he was losing. T'Challa doubted any normal human could last so long with this much blood on the ground.

For once, the young King of Wakanda regretted wearing the Black Panther costume. Apologising mentally for doing this in such cold weather, he tore off Barnes' jacket, leaving a light gray shirt underneath, more than half of it now stained a dark crimson. T'Challa hurried to remember the medical classes he had taken, and tore off a small section of the jacket to cover the hole, pressing on the sides to try and create an airtight seal. He hurriedly moved to check the man's lungs, noting how they seemed uneven in size. If he remembered correctly, that meant that Barnes was developing a dangerously low blood pressure.

For the first time, he wished that Shuri had come with him on this mission. She had always exceeded him in medical class and thrived in these kinds of situations. Without her or any real medical supplies anywhere nearby, T'Challa doubted that Barnes would survive for longer than a couple minutes, even with his help. He closed his eyes for a moment, briefly allowing himself to feel the pain that this had been his fault, really. If he hadn't so rashly attacked Barnes in Romania, none of this would have happened.

He was honestly still wondering _how_ it had happened. From what he knew, Stark, though slightly self-centered, seemed like a good man. Captain America certainly wouldn't have left without Barnes willingly, and Iron Man was no (willing) killer. This situation just didn't make sense. But there was no time to give that question more than a passing thought right now.

Barnes' breaths quickened, and T'Challa opened his eyes to find two stormy blue irises staring back at him. How the man had forced himself into consciousness, the young king didn't know, but it was something he found that he could respect.

"Relax, my friend," he murmured soothingly. "You are safe now."

There was question in the former assassin's eyes, and T'Challa continued.

"I know the real story. You are an innocent man, and I hope you can forgive me for acting so rashly. Zemo is in my custody and awaiting transfer to the United Nations for trial."

"Steve," Barnes rasped, coughing slightly. T'Challa switched the bandages on Barnes' chest for a clean one.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I came too late too see. But he is alive, and I assure you that I will do everything in my power to make sure he is acquitted of all charges. I believe Stark has him in custody. If so, then he will be treated justly."

Barnes' eyes clouded.

"I kill…" he trailed off into a sick gurgle, and T'Challa hurried to help him tilt his head and let the offending blood trickle out of his mouth. "So ma'y. His paren's. My faul'." He was exhausting himself, but Barnes seemed almost desperate to speak his last words before it was too late. "'M sor'. I fora've y' lon' time a'o."

Even in his last moments, all Barnes was thinking about was how he had hurt others. T'Challa's chest ached. How could he ever have assumed that this man would mercilessly kill? But even as he thought of the question, he reminded himself of the facility around them. Of course. From what he had seen and heard, HYDRA could break even the best of men.

"There is," He spoke slowly, hoping that his message could be understood. "A proverb, spoken in my country and the ones around it. 'You cannot change the direction of the wind, so turn the sail.' Your winds have been harsh and unrelenting, Barnes, but you have turned your sail masterfully and made the best out of your lot in life. For that, you have my true, undying respect. And my most sincere apologies."

Barnes blinked slowly, and his lips twitched upwards, indicating that he understood. His eyes flickered, though, showing traces of fear as they traced the ceiling above them. T'Challa sighed. This man was dying slowly, in complete agony, in the place where he had been tortured for decades, if what he had heard about this facility was correct. All the ex-assassin had was him, a man who, only an hour ago, had been set on killing him.

"We are all victims in this situation," he sighed, then took a deep breath. "Brace yourself, my friend. I will not let you die in a place like this."

Hurriedly, he tied the bandage in place around Barnes' chest, doing his best to guarantee that it wouldn't move any more than necessary, and picked him up, bridal style. Barnes hissed in pain, and the blood from his wound began trickling onto the Black Panther suit. But T'Challa paid that no mind, crossing the barrier from inside the facility to the windy Siberian tundra in just a few long strides.

Slowly, he knelt down, placing himself under Barnes and turning on the suit's heater so that the man didn't feel too cold in his last moments.

"Than' y'," Barnes slurred, most likely dizzy from the sudden move. However, his eyes had misted, and as T'Challa watched, one tear slipped out and traced a line down his cheek.

Together, they sat in silence for a time. Then Barnes spoke again, his voice startlingly clear.

"They all though' I don' like the snow. But I thin' it's pretty. Peaceful. Go' me through a lo'. When I could see i', i' helped pu' me to sleep. Than' you."

"Of course. May our ancestors guide you to peace," T'Challa murmured.

He wasn't sure how long the two of them sat there, watching the morning sun crest over the sky in a thin haze of clouds. It felt like years, but surely it must have only been a couple minutes, maybe less. But at one point during it all, Barnes took a last, shuddering breath, then stilled.

T'Challa's chest constricted, and it took him several more minutes that felt like years to lean over and close Barnes' eyes.

After what may have been an hour of just watching the sun move across the sky, he stood, picked up Barnes' rapidly cooling corpse, and walked back to his ship.

If Zemo received several rough bruises and a black eye from not being buckled properly on the flight to Berlin, well, he wasn't going to complain.

After all, T'Challa, son of T'Chaka and the King of Wakanda, was a very busy man and had some serious work to do.

* * *

When the doors to their prison in the Raft opened, Sam was dozing lightly.

Thankfully, though, his sleep was light, perfected from years in the military, various Avengers missions, and excursions into the backwaters of the world looking for Bucky before this whole Accords fiasco. Once the door was completely open, Sam was on his feet and wide awake, Scott and Clint already at the bars.

There were multiple people marching in. Soldiers, if the heavy, monotonous footsteps were anything to go by. Sam shared a wary look with Clint as two, then four heavily-armed SWAT guards entered the holding cell, all carrying AK-47s. More were coming in, guarding a figure he couldn't see yet save for the hem of their blue shirt from his current position. Clint, several cells down, however, could, and his reaction was immediate, his expression morphing from shock to fear, and then to a burning rage Sam had never seen in the man before.

"You _bastard_!" He roared, practically throwing himself at his bars with a resounding clang. "Stark, you absolute _bastard_! I am going to tear you limb from limb!"

Scott, too, could see who it was, though he seemed too shocked to say anything just yet, simply taking a half step back in shock, mouth working but nothing coming out.

Now thoroughly alarmed, Sam tried to move around the SWAT soldier to see their prisoner, already fearing the worst. It took him squeezing himself into the left corner of his five-foot wide cell, but he was just barely able to get a clear view of the new prisoner.

Part of him already knew who he was going to see, but he still felt as if he'd been punched in the gut when he saw the man. Like the rest of the captured ex-avengers, Steve was dressed in the blue overshirt and pants, with a gray long-sleeved shirt underneath. But Sam quickly realized that it had been everything else that was so horrifying to have provoked Scott and Clint's reactions.

For one, Steve seemed to barely be able to stand. He took short, shuffling steps, and distinctly favored his right foot, though the short steps may have been from the shackles on his feet. His hands were also cuffed, but in a style Sam had never seen before, his hands completely encased in metal, the two cyndrilic pods attached together on their insides to prevent any movement. His face was covered in wounds, though at least someone had dressed them. The were two particularly nasty scratches under his left eye and the right corner of his lip, padded with white bandages. And as Sam looked closer, he found the outlines of a thicker bandage on the super soldier's right leg, explaining the limp.

"Steve?" He called out in what he hoped was a calming tone, trying to see if Bucky was behind the super soldier. But there was no one except the guards. Steve himself said nothing, his head continuing to hang low. Sam's stomach felt as if it'd been filled with ice.

The SWAT team—eight in total, Sam realized, four in front and four behind—shoved Steve towards one of the empty cells, the one right next to him. One of the four leaders stepped up front and made a signal to the cameras, and the door to said cell opened with a creak. The four SWAT men in front grabbed Steve, still completely unresisting, into the prison and shut the door. Without a single word or explanation, they were gone again.

For moment, there was silence, even Clint going quiet as they waited, almost without knowing it, for Steve to speak. He was out of sight for Sam now, since their cells were side-by-side, so he looked to Clint, who would have a better view, for help. The archer just shot him a rapidly despairing look and shook his head minutely. That wasn't good.

Then Wanda started crying.

"He's here," she sobbed quietly, though the noise felt deafening in the echoing chamber.

The single phrase summed up the complete despair and hopelessness of the situation. Almost as if in unison, Scott and Sam both just collapsed into themselves, while Clint just shook his head and took several deep breaths. Their last true ally was incarcerated. There really was no hope.

"Steve?" Sam finally croaked after a couple moments, breaking the silence with the question the rest of the prisoners knew they needed answered. "Where's Bucky?"

There was silence for around a minute as they waited with baited breath for the verdict.

"He's dead," Steve announced, voice barely above a whisper. "Tony killed him."

* * *

Pepper had come to expect the unexpected. It came in her job description, really, and had become part of her daily life after dating Tony for years on end.

And in the end, it was why she had decided to take a break from both him and their relationship. In the end, Tony's love of Iron Man had driven a wedge between them that she couldn't see being mended any time in the near future. It was maddening, seeing him flying off as Iron Man and never knowing if he'd come back, knowing that he was a self-sacrificing moron ready to give himself up for the greater good. It was just so infuriating sometimes, how he seemed to care so little about how he affected others when he did that.

Pepper was no superhero. Her arena of business and management was practically a world away from Tony's engineering world, and she could usually do little to help him other than manage Stark Industries. So it was probably was for the best that they both separated and got their personal lives straightened up a bit before they moved on, despite what Tony said.

Which was why she wasn't surprised when she heard Tony (and it could only be Tony; he was the only person who would seriously walk in wearing an Iron Man armor) enter her house in Malibu, but rather annoyed. She had an important press meeting in the morning over the Sokovia Accords and was rather jet-lagged from a business trip to Japan, so she really wasn't in the mood for dealing with another development.

"Anthony Stark, you better have a good reason for this!" She called, not taking her eyes off her computer, where she was scanning over a speech that an intern had written for her to give at a charity event next week.

She got no reply, and after a moment, there was a clanging of metal on hardwood. Was Tony seriously just taking off his Iron Man suit in her _hallway_? Too tired to really even muster up the appropriate anger she wanted to feel, Pepper simply sighed, stood up, and marched over to the entrance hallway, determined to give her ex-boyfriend a serious talking-to.

But she didn't even start.

Because once she caught sight of Tony, she knew something was terribly wrong.

For one, he hadn't simply discarded his armor, he was practically throwing it in chunks along the floor and frantically kicking off his boots as if they were scalding hot when she came into sight. He was marred by bruises and cuts, all of which were unattended to. He seemed to be on the edge of another panic attack (which was bad. Those had been getting rarer since she'd convinced him to start getting help after the Ultron incident) and looked as if he was about to collapse in on himself.

"Tony?" She inquired softly, stepping forwards tentatively. "What happened?"

The self-made superhero said nothing for a few moments, still preoccupied with tearing off his suit. Once the last piece of his left boot came off, he simply stood there for a moment, shivering despite the seventy-degree temperature.

"I killed him, Pep," he finally whispered. "I didn't mean to, but I did. I killed him."

He kept on muttering the same words over and over, and it was then that Pepper decided that everything else could wait. She simply walked forwards, took him into her arms, and let him cry.

* * *

The Raft, for a high-security prison, wasn't really dangerous, Sam discovered. It was boring.

The days passed slowly at first, almost imperceptibly, until they sped up to just blur together in a sea of monotony. Wake up. Breakfast. Sit around and talk for several hours. Lunch. Be taken down to the heavily guarded gym (save for Wanda, she never left her cell) to exercise for an hour. Sit around some more. Dinner. Go to bed. No phone call home, no natural light (Scott had mourned the loss of his tan half-heartedly), no social interaction with anyone except each other and the guards (who never spoke).

That was it.

Their only source of entertainment came as a book or two appearing and circulated through the cells. Nothing political or recent, all undoubtedly checked thoroughly by the guards. Most of them were the classics, which was also pretty boring. When the books came, they read more than talked. Really, he, Scott, and Clint all avoided talking when some other form of distraction was available. None of them wanted to address the multiple elephants in the room, and the small talk topics they came up with instead just seemed to make the atmosphere all the more forced and tense.

But at least they were talking.

Wanda and Steve said nothing at all.

Wanda, Sam supposed, could be understood the best, being generally unable to move and being shocked when you did move faster than a snail's pace was just torture for the young woman. It had made his blood boil during their first few days (Day _s_? There was little sense of time other than the meals and for all he knew Ross was screwing with those), but now he felt just disconnected from everything. He felt _bad_ for Wanda, that was without question, but he no longer wanted to throttle the guards whenever he looked over at her. He had fallen into a state of weary acceptance with her situation. He didn't like it, but nothing he did was going to change that.

Steve was who Sam was worried about the most.

Besides that first day when he had announced Barnes'— _Bucky's_ —death, he'd done, quite literally, nothing. From what Clint and Scott reported to him, he just stared at the wall, ate perhaps half of his meals (worrying, considering they were being given portions for normal men, not super soldiers), and generally retreated into his head. A coping mechanism, Clint had been able to tell him through body motions and subtext. Most likely what the super soldier had done when he'd first arrived in 2012, since only Clint could tell. But back then he'd at least been able to get help.

The only time Steve changed was perhaps seven "days" after arriving. They'd gone down to the gym for their exercise, and instead of just sitting with his back against the wall like he usually would, Steve had just _attacked_ the gym bag with no warning at all. He'd scared all of them (save Clint), half to death and had gone through five separate bags by the time exercise was over. Since they weren't allowed to get within five feet of each other without being tazed, Sam, Scott, and Clint had only been able to try and sooth him with words. Which, of course, accomplished nothing. Then gym ended and Steve went back to staring at the wall. Rinse and repeat.

Steve was starting to terrify all of them. His muscle mass and general disposition had gone down the drain since he wasn't eating. His hair grew out and he got a scraggly beard (well, none of them were allowed blades so all the men had beards, but Sam swore Steve's was the worst). Within two "weeks" after his first punching bag demolishment, he'd gone from destroying five bags per session to two. He slept more. Reacted only to food and the guards.

Like all of them, Steve had nightmares, but he was military trained and only shivered, twitched, and sometimes whimpered. That was it.

When that happened, or whenever any one of them had a nightmare, Clint would sing. Sam honestly had no idea why the archer had decided to do it, and it did sound off-tune and wavering. But he found, after a little while, that it did help. Clint just seemed to sing whatever was on his mind at the time, from "America the Beautiful" to "Sweet Home Alabama," even adding in some Russian lullabies he couldn't have learned from anyone except Natasha, and halfway translated Norse folk songs that most likely had come from Thor.

Those nights, when the lights had darkened and they laid in the dark, it almost felt as if they were home again. Sometimes Sam thought back to that one party they had all attended, right before the whole Ultron debacle. The good old days, only a year ago but they felt like a decade, where Tony and Clint would take stupid dares from each other, Bruce and Natasha would talk about the little things, and Thor and Steve would have drinking contests using the prince's Asgardian liquor (which Thor usually won, but Steve had the lighter hangover). Sometimes Sam wondered what Thor or Bruce were up to these days, whether they were happy, sad, or dead.

The good old days.

Because the Avengers, no matter what Ross said, were history.

And sometimes the thought became so real that Sam just had to sit back and let the tears fall.

* * *

One day their book allowance included _The Giver_ , by Lois Lowry.

Sam took the book immediately; it had been his mother's favorite book when he'd been growing up. He'd read it so many times that he could recite the plot from memory, and he'd even kept a copy in his apartment for his bad days, when he wanted to pretend to be a child again. He took the book from the guards, flipping it open as he noted that it looked startlingly similar to the issue his mother had read to him as a child.

Flipping through the pages, he noticed several wrinkles in the pages, near the back of the book. Odd, since the books usually given to them were in pristine condition, looking perfect and just off the shelf so that any change to its status could be immediately noted. You know, in case one of them wanted a page from a book for some reason. Curious, he forsook starting at the beginning and flipped to the wrinkled page.

It took place just after a particular scene that Sam had always not liked as a kid because it was so sad and cruel. _The Giver_ took place in a futuristic totalitarian society, where no one felt anything except the the Giver and his apprentice, Jonas, who was being trained to feel and act based on emotion. Jonas, in that scene, had just watched a baby be killed because it was an identical twin. Sam's eyes fell down to that abnormal wrinkle in the page, reading the words that bent over it half-heartedly.

"' _No one must hear you cry' [said The Giver]._

 _Jonas looked up wildly. 'No one heard that little twin die! No one but my father!' He collapsed into sobs again."_

Sam thought suddenly of Steve, sitting just five feet away as he stared blankly into space.

"No one must hear you cry…." He repeated the Giver's words to himself. His eyes widened. He flipped to the next wrinkle, only several pages later and in the same conversation.

"' _You have the colors,' The Giver told him. 'And you have the courage. I will help you to have the strength.'"_

Maybe he could help Steve find his strength.

Silently, he thanked the sender of this book, who had to have known that he'd pick _The Giver_ to read, and had painstakingly placed the wrinkles over the quotes that would knock on Sam's dense skull enough to see what he had to do.

He flipped over to the first page, and began to read aloud, forcing his voice to remain loud and clear.

"It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened…"

* * *

It helped, surprisingly. Sam read _The Giver_ up until lunch, getting all the way to chapter nineteen before the book was taken away for the meal. They ate in silence, as usual, but when they were marched to the gym, he caught Wanda's eye as he passed her cell. The Sokovian woman's lips twitched up in a silent thanks, and Sam realized abruptly that she didn't have access to books like they did, with the straitjacket hindering all movement. He felt ashamed for not thinking of it earlier.

But it warmed his chest to know that he was helping out.

During exercise hour, Steve simply lifted a couple weights, only taking to the punching bag for the last fifteen minutes and not even destroying one. Clint, Scott and Sam all unanimously agreed that it was improvement, and Scott sent him a look conveying some sense of worry (for Steve and Wanda, no doubt) and the beginnings of an idea.

After lunch, the group received their afternoon selection. _The Giver_ was gone, however. Before Sam could decide if he should just start on another book, Scott started reading. It was the _Da Vinci Code_ this time. No doubt from his time as a father, Scott was able to morph his voice into comically bad exaggerated versions of each character, making every accent so ridiculous that when he started on Bezu Fache's French, Wanda actually chuckled.

Scott was on cloud nine for the next week.

They settled into a new routine. Now, Sam read books aloud in the morning, Scott in the afternoon. After dinner, when there were no books, he, Scott, and Clint swapped old stories, about everything from their childhood memories to pranks pulled just a week before the Sokovia Accords had been proposed. By the fourth day, Wanda started joining in, and the three men jumped on the chance to help at least one of their friends. When their nightmares came, Clint sang to them until they nodded off.

Steve still didn't talk, but he slowly began to relax. Nine days after establishing the new routine, Clint reported during gym that Steve had stopped staring into space and had been visibly listening as Sam read _The Lord of the Rings_. He started eating more as well, taking in his entire portion (still to little for him but it was the best he could do).

Time still blurred, but imprisonment became a bit more bearable. The four of them, save Steve, began to develop a strong bond by the second week, having practically belted out their life stories to each other during their evening talks. Clint, Scott, and Sam had all decided, somehow without talking to each other, that Wanda and Steve were to be cared for and protected.

Steve was 30, Sam realized one day. _Thirty._ And Wanda was 21.

Damn. Even Sam himself was 34, and he hadn't gone through half the crap they had.

And the days continued to blur together.

Until one morning, right after Sam had begun _Eragon_ , the cell door opened.

And it wasn't the guards who entered.

* * *

 **The quotes from** _ **The Giver**_ **are pages 153 and 157 respectively, in chapter 20. I don't own any of the books mentioned.**

 **I'm putting up a poll for you guys to see if you want part 2 or a funny chapter next. PLEASE vote. I only got one person last time.**

 **Reviews!:**

 **Guest** —Thanks! I never knew I could write humor, actually. This is a relief.

 **Flare** —Thank you very much.

 **Agent Walker 05** —Cap could always lift Thor's hammer, in my opinion. Also, Pietro winning is always a win. Don't worry if you don't have any ideas; I keep on getting more! And ideas don't have to be original. Most of mine come off Pinterest.

 **So… yeah.**


	5. tONY wHY Part 2

**Honestly, I ought to just make this a separate mini-story. At this rate there'll be 4-5 chapters in this arc. When I passed 4,500 words and showed no signs of stopping, I just decided to upload this chapter so I have** _ **something**_ **for you guys.**

 **Also, it'll be awhile before I can publish again, maybe a month or so at the most. Real life gets in the way of things, sadly. I will also be working on a more cohesive Marvel story centered in an alternate universe during this time, with Peter Parker, Clint Barton, and Steve Rogers taking center stage. For those of you who read the Attack on Titan manga, it's based off of the Uprising Arc. I've been working on it since April, have around 21,000 words down, and hope to publish it in late September or October. It will be titled** _ **Illegitimate.**_

 **I have also started posting (tentative) update dates, progress reports, and sneak peaks of upcoming chapters on my profile. Check it out every once in a while if you're curious.**

 **Anyways, enough shameless plug-ins. Here's Part 2 of tONY wHY.**

* * *

 **Part 5:**

"Mom?" Sam gasped, book dropping to the ground. Clint and Scott looked up almost in unison, while Wanda simply tilted her head to try and see.

A woman had stepped through the door, dressed in civvies. She was short and plump, at 5'1, and she had dark skin, and eyes, her black hair pulled back. Her entire persona radiated determination tinged with hope, and once her eyes landed on Sam, they filled with tears.

"What the…" Despite himself, Sam's eyes misted as he gazed upon his mother for first time in what felt like forever. He hardly even registered the cell doors opening, aware of the event just enough to register when he could leave. He raced forwards, bending down almost a full foot to embrace her.

Darlene laughed, squeezing her son with a surprising strength considering her stature.

"It's so good to see you, baby," She chuckled. "You're so thin. Have you been eating?"

"Everything they gave me, Ma," Sam murmured. "How did you get here? What's going on?"

"Look around you!" Darlene grinned, and Sam reluctantly pulled away from her to see more people pouring in, no guards in sight. Leading them were three very intimidating women, dressing in African-looking uniforms, red with steel(?) plating and fierce looking spears. Behind them were more people dressed in civvies. As Sam watched, a woman with long brown hair practically flew out of the crowd. Upon seeing her, Clint let out an emotional sound and met her at the halfway point. The two kissed passionately, paying no attention to the dozen people around them.

 _Clint's wife_ , Sam realized. _Laura, I think her name is._ He turned away to give them some privacy, instead watching as a black-haired woman and a man in his late sixties greeted Scott. Sam thought for a moment, then blinked as he realized they were Hank Pym and his daughter, whose name he had forgotten.

"How?" He asked again as one of the African women helped Wanda out of her straightjacket.

"You're mother is a very extraordinary woman, Mr. Wilson."

Sam's head snapped up. King T'Challa was walking towards them, dressed not in his Black Panther suit, but in a tuxedo, a red cloth draped over one shoulder, unknown patterns over it.

"...Your majesty," Sam replied carefully, his previous joy falling away to be replaced by suspicion. Hadn't T'Challa been adamant on putting them in the Raft? What was going on, really? "I suppose you have an explanation for how this is possible."

"I do," T'Challa nodded. "You, Clinton Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Scott Lang, and Steven Rogers have all been released from the Raft. All charges against you by the UN and the United States, Germany, and Sokovia have been dropped."

It took Sam a moment to realize that he was gaping, and even then it was because his mother hit him in the arm. He closed his mouth, still shocked to the core. That certainly explained their cells opening, the visitors and the lack of guards, but not _how_.

But it was Scott who spoke up, hand-in-hand with Hank Pym's daughter, who brought up the question they were all thinking.

"How did you do that?" He asked. "I thought Wakanda didn't have much world power, even with your Black Panther."

"The trick is ' _did_ ,' Mr. Lang," T'Challa answered. "Wakanda is a lot more powerful than we've let the world know. But Mrs. Wilson here did most of the heavy work before we could do much, though. Since you all were incarcerated without a trial and no bail given, she raised awareness and protested against the breaking of the American Constitution's Bill of Rights. We stepped in and helped as well until your government caved."

"What about Wanda?" Clint asked from where he and the Wakandan warrior were helping Wanda. Laura stuck extremely close to her husband, as if terrified he may disappear once again. "She's not a US citizen."

"That's where we came in. You don't know this, but Wakanda is very rich, especially in vibranium. We paid for her release in the metal. But there were... conditions."

Sam frowned again, a cold pit of dread in his stomach. Of course.

"What kind of conditions?"

"You are no longer US citizens, and are not allowed to visit the US, Germany, and Sokovia for longer than one week every six months. I have volunteered to grant asylum for you all if you will take it. Your names are currently going through the process for becoming full Wakandan citizens."

"What? Why have you volunteered for this?" Sam asked. T'Challa's face fell.

"I have taken responsibility for Barnes' death," he answered, in a quieter tone. "I acted rashly and out of line, and made the situation much worse as a result. I feel I have a duty, now, to honor his memory by keeping you all safe and a place to recover from this tragedy."

There was silence for a couple moments, before Pym spoke up quietly.

"Scott, Cassie will stay in California. Maggie and Jim are sympathetic to your cause but they aren't willing to go as far as uprooting their entire lives to follow you. They've offered to visit every four months for a week, though, and have offered their home to you if you wish to spend your one allotted week there."

Scott sucked in a long breath, looking at the ground. Sam felt a pang of pity for the man; wanting to see Cassie again was all he had really talked about while in prison, and now they were separated again. To his credit, he reacted no more than that, nodding his head numbly.

"And you two?" He questioned, turning to Pym's daughter, looking as if he expected her to up and leave as well. She answered, mouth twitching upwards.

"T'Challa has offered us residency and access to his best labs to study the Quantum Realm and the Pym particles. We'd be fools not to accept."

"We're moving there, too," Laura added. "Already have, actually. Since the government knows about our family now, it's been really dangerous for us. There was an attack two months ago. Nick had stopped by and we managed to fight them off, but he sent us to Wakanda soon after."

Clint's expression morphed into one of terror.

"The kids?" He asked, almost frantically.

"Your safety protocols worked like a charm," Laura soothed him, placing a hand on her husband's arm. "Cooper got his siblings out while we fought them off. He was grazed, but it wasn't bad." She laughed. "He won't stop going on about how cool the scar makes him look. I would have brought them along, but Ross wouldn't allow anyone below eighteen to the Raft."

"You, Mom?" Sam asked as Clint embraced his wife once again. Darlene smiled.

"I still have a lot of work to do in the states, Sammy. I'm hosting a rally in D.C. in two weeks."

"A rally?" Sam echoed.

"I'll tell you more later. We should go before Ross gets impatient."

Sam nodded, looking about their group. He glanced behind him to see Steve still sitting in his cell, watching them with piercing blue eyes, yet not saying a word. Yes, they should go. If Wakanda was as prosperous as T'Challa claimed it to be, they could get help for Steve as well.

"How long have we been here?" Wanda asked quietly. She had been freed from her straitjacket, and now Clint stood by her almost protectively.

"Four months," T'Challa answered.

Sam stiffened. Only four months? It felt like they'd been here for… he didn't even know how long he'd thought it been. Years, maybe. The fight in the Berlin airport certainly felt as if it'd taken place a decade ago, not a simple four months.

After a moment, though, he stood, hugged his mother briefly, and walked over to Steve's cell, where he still hadn't moved, only his eyes tracking his old friend's movements. Sam wasn't really sure what to say—what _could_ he say? This was the first time they had been so close in months—so in the end he just extended a hand.

"It's time to go, Steve. Do you want to come?"

Steve didn't say anything

Almost everyone's eyes were on them now. For a long moment, Sam seriously thought he'd refuse and ask to stay in the cell. But then Steve twitched, and he grabbed Sam's hand, pulling himself up with shaky steps. He'd given no verbal response, but that was enough for Sam.

Sam patted his friend on the shoulder, and lead him to the group.

They had a new home now.

Wakanda.

* * *

"Tony, you awake?"

Pepper knocked softly on the door to the lab. As predicted, there was no response. Sighing softly, she switched her plate full of cream of chicken soup, she palmed open the door, immediately being assaulted with the horrid stench of gasoline and grease mixed together. Coughing, she waved a hand in front of her face.

"FRIDAY, please turn on the air conditioning," she called.

"As you wish, Miss Potts," came the automated reply from the mansion's AI.

A whirring sound began in the back of the room, and Pepper sucked in a last breath of semi-clean air and stepped inside. Like she had expected, Tony was in the same place he'd been in for the last couple days straight, working on some new tech she hadn't even tried to fathom without Tony to explain it to her. FRIDAY had reported that he'd only been sleeping and eating intermittently, and even then it was because she would have the food delivered right to him, or sedate him with a mild sleeping pill. Pepper hadn't gotten much sleep during that time, either, having been forced out for a meeting. With Rhodey still in therapy and Happy overseeing Spider-man and moving everything out of the tower, Tony had been left alone

Pepper hated that.

Four months had passed since Barnes' death, and since Pepper had moved back in with Tony. Sure, they weren't officially back together yet, but at this point Pepper didn't care. No matter what the media said, she didn't think he was ready for something like a relationship. Personal feelings aside, Tony was Pepper's friend, and she could leave him alone like this.

The last four months had been hard, though. On everyone.

Rhodey had been getting better ever since his accident, but Tony seemed to be actively avoiding him. Whenever he came down to the lab in his wheelchair, he'd be the one talked, while Tony just gave him one-word answers and grunts, if he was lucky. Overall, Tony had confided in her, he just couldn't stand looking at his best friend, living and breathing, when he had deliberately taken that from someone else. Pepper reported this to Rhodey and he stopped coming into the lab, though he still visited the mansion.

Spider-Man… Pepper wasn't sure what to think about him. She honestly just felt a bit bad for him. He kept on leaving calls and voicemails on Happy's phone, several of which she had listened to, and he really seemed like a nice kid. She made a mental note to visit him some day.

Vision had disappeared. Pepper and she was fairly certain Tony had no idea where he was. With Wanda, who she was suspicious he had a crush on, was only just being released from prison, and he hadn't taken that well. Couple it with Tony's actions in Siberia, and it was no surprise that he had off and vanished. The government hadn't been happy about it, but there was little they could do since the android was sentient and not under Tony's responsibility.

"Tony, you need to take a shower," Pepper announced, setting down the food on the workbench next to her friend. "You haven't been taking care of yourself again, have you?"

Tony hardly looked up from his work, giving an non-committed shrug. "Good to have you back. Will in a bit."

" _Tony_."

"Not now, Pep."

"Is it because of the Raft release today? Not taking care of yourself more than usual? I thought we were making progress."

At the mention of the Raft, Tony stiffened. Pepper couldn't help but sigh at that. She could hardly mention the Avengers these days without him completely shutting down. It was getting ridiculous. She loved Tony, yes, but at this rate he was going to get himself killed before he actually got up and _did_ something.

Sighing, she pulled up the electrical mainframe and turned off Tony's electronics. The man froze, then looked at her in a mixture of betrayal, fear, and anxiety. Pepper didn't falter, however, and pulled up a chair, looking at him intensely.

"Listen to me, Tony. I'm not going to let you just wither away like this. You killed an innocent man when he was only trying to protect himself. It's not something you can easily get over, and I understand that. But it's about time you faced your problems."

"Pep—"

"No, you listen to me. I love you, Tony, and you know that even if you don't want to acknowledge it. You are going to eat this, take a shower, sleep, and then we're going to see a therapist. No buts."

"Pepper, I _can't_." Tony buried his head in his hands. "I can't have someone digging into my personal life and judging it. How am I supposed to trust people like that? I need to help others, try and make up for my mistakes..."

"You can do that. With help," Pepper replied, calmly but firmly. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

Tony brought up his knees to his chest, breaths quickening. "Every time I stop, I see them. I always see myself hurting them. I can't make it go away."

Pepper said nothing more as Tony delved into a panic attack, simply giving him a presence he could focus on, just one hand on his shoulder so he knew she was there, but not overwhelming him. The PTSD had seemed to just come back full force after Siberia. They had practically made a routine for it by this point.

The attack subsided after a few minutes, and Pepper silently passed him the soup. After giving him a prompting look, he uncurled himself, relaxing ever so slightly, and began eating.

"We're going to start looking tomorrow," she announced. This time, Tony didn't protest.

* * *

Wakanda was… well, it was more than Sam could have ever imagined. When T'Challa had said that they were rich, he had meant it. And not just in "the elite holds all the power/money" like in most African countries. The whole place, from their jet to the holographic barrier protecting them from the outside world, was more advanced than even the most cutting-edge technology from Stark Industries. The only person to ever create something more advanced than them, one of the Dora Milaje, Okoye, had told them, was Hank Pym. And that was for obvious reasons.

Steve had been silent throughout the entire flight, but at this point, Sam had come to expect and accept it. Okoye and T'Challa had spared them looks throughout the three-hour flight, but Sam paid them no attention. He and Steve sat side by side, almost touching, in their respective seats. While Clint had sat next to Laura and Scott between Pym and his daughter (whose name Sam had yet to learn), Wanda had taken Steve's other side. There seemed to be closeness now among the five former prisoners, one that Sam hadn't really felt before, save for Steve.

They landed around noon, and disembarked onto a landing pad. Large skyscrapers and flying planes surrounded them, yet the style wasn't the overwhelming blockiness and ad-covered billboards that Sam was accustomed to. Instead, the city had a much more clean and natural feeling to it, and plant life was everywhere. Around a dozen more women were awaiting their arrival—the rest of the Dora Milaje, Sam realized—along with an older woman in a white dress, and a girl in an orange one, both wearing tribal makeup.

"Mother," T'Challa greeted the elder woman, bowing slightly. "Shuri. I've returned."

The teenager, Shuri, grinned, patting T'Challa on the shoulder and approaching them.

"It's so good to finally meet you," she laughed, raising her arms. "Welcome to Wakanda! I've volunteered to show you around to your rooms, and then a general tour of the palace. Now, which one of you are—" She didn't finish her sentence as her eyes landing on Pym. "Ah, Hank Pym! The only colonizer to discover something I have not. I have great plans for the two of us. I'll be expecting you in my lab bright and early tomorrow!"

Pym blinked, taken aback slightly as T'Challa placed a hand on Shuri's shoulder. "This is my younger sister, Shuri. She's the head of our science division, the Wakandan Design Group. I'd stay longer, but I have a meeting with my counselors later this afternoon and have to prepare."

"Oh, I'll take care of them, brother!" Shuri laughed.

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Sam put in, nodding to T'Challa. The young king flashed him a brief smile and walked off with his mother, half of the Dora Milaje, Okoye included, following. Shuri turned to them once they were gone.

"Come!" She announced, starting off towards the large building in front of them. Wanda shared a half-amused, half-overwhelmed look at Sam before Laura walked forwards, beckoning to them.

"Our quarters are this way!" She called. "The kids are waiting, Clint!"

That had Clint almost running after his wife. Scott, Pym, and Pym's daughter all followed suit, Wanda trailing behind. Sam and Steve took the end of the little group.

Speaking of the former Avenger, Steve was simply looking around them with an expressionless face. His eyes roamed over the unique architecture, and then back to Sam. His eyes held everything his body did not, that mostly being crushing grief but also awe and maybe a flicker of hope.

"You liking this so far?" Sam brought himself up to ask. Steve shrugged, lips twitching upwards into a sad smile. Something felt off about that response—shouldn't he at least be verbally responding by now?—but he elected to ignore that just for now, instead opting to gawk a bit as they entered the palace.

As they walked through the gigantic building, Shuri was quick to explain to them the basics of the building. This was the public wing, she said, where the politicians and representatives of the major Wakandan tribes met to "be boring and set up useless rules." Their wing was some ways away. After walking a ways through the palace, they took an elevator up to the second-highest floor. Unlike Avenger's Tower, however, where their suites had felt more like apartments, this floor felt as if they were stepping into a suburban house.

"Daddy!" A girl, sitting on a bench in the entrance hallway and playing on a tablet, looked up as they entered. She was perhaps seven or eight years old, and her tablet clattered to the floor as she leapt into Clint's arms. The archer let out a wild whoop, tossing her into the air, then holding her close in a crushing hug. "You're squishing me!"

"Tryin' to show you how much I love ya, Lila," Clint muttered, planting kisses into his daughter's hair. Lila just laughed as a preteen boy, holding a small child around a year and a half old, entered the room as well. "Cooper! Nathaniel! You're all so big!"

"Dad!" Cooper quickly joined the the hug, and, laughing, Laura did, too. The rest all watched on in happiness for them, save for Scott, Clint noted, who had a look of pain. But that was to be expected, and Pym's daughter was quick to lay a reassuring hand on his arm.

"Wait! Daddy, Daddy, Nat's gotta show ya something!"

Lila's voice broke out over the hug, and Clint reluctantly let go, kneeling down to face his daughter and youngest son. He ruffled Nathaniel's hair, and smiled.

"Well, better not keep me waiting, then," He responded. Lila giggled and picked up Nathaniel, setting him down about a foot or so away, were he stood shakily. After a moment of wobbling, he took several shaky steps towards Clint, then toddled along much more confidently, a wide, four-toothed grin on his face as he practically fell into Clint's arms. Clint caught him easily, but didn't give the loud laugh that Lila seemed to have been expecting. Instead, he just looked to Laura.

"How long?" He asked. Laura gave a bittersweet smile.

"Three weeks," she replied. "We recorded it for you."

It struck Sam, then, that Clint had missed Nathaniel's first steps while in prison.

Steve's hand grabbed Sam's wrist tightly. He turned to see an anguished look on the former leader's face as he watched the family. Oh. He should've expected this; Steve was taking Clint's loss personally.

"Shuri?" He asked quietly, shifting the attention away from the Bartons. "Can we see the rest of our rooms? We're all pretty tired."

"Oh, yeah," The princess responded, being snapped out of what seemed to be a memory. "Sorry. This way." She lead them down a large hallway, to a large living room with a flat-screen TV on one side, and a state-of-the art kitchen to the right of the living room with an open wall. There were two main hallways opposite them, and an opening to a balcony that looked more like a garden. "There is a suite for each of you. The Bartons got the biggest one 'cause they're a family, but each has at least one bedroom, a bathroom, and an office. The garden outside is pretty big, so you can hang out there if you want, too."

"This is… a lot," Scott commented, eyes wide. Wanda shifted, but said nothing.

"I think we'll need a bit of time to get settled," Sam decided. Shuri nodded, and handed him a cell phone.

"We have more, but T'Challa said he didn't want to overwhelm you guys just yet. My number's on there; I'll call you when dinner is ready. Mother and T'Challa want to eat with you."

"Thank you," Sam said earnestly. Shuri grinned again.

"It's really no problem. I'll see you all at dinner!" She gave a small wave and was out the door in a little less than a minute.

"Daddy! I need to show you my drawings!" Lila burst almost immediately once she was gone. "I made a ton because you always said you liked them. _Cooper_ ," she scoffed at her brother. "Said it was stupid."

"It was," the boy grumbled. Clint shot him a ' _let her have her way'_ look.

"Show me, then," he replied to Lila. The little girl giggled, shooting a triumphant look at Cooper, and skipped to the living room, pulling out several sheets of paper. Meanwhile, Steve moved to sit on the couch as Scott gave Pym and his daughter yet another hug.

Sam turned away to go down one of the hallways, seeing three doors down there, one on each side and one at the end of the hallway. Each had a handmade sign (the kids must've made them, Sam realized) reading a particular name. He, Scott, and Steve all had a room (apartment?) here, with Steve taking the end suite. He opened his own door, and entered what looked to be a moderately-sized apartment. There was a sitting area in the entryway, a small kitchenette to the side, and two doors in front of him. Opening one, Sam found himself looking at a huge master bedroom, with giant pillows and must be a bathroom door. Closing that for now, he moved to the office, where there a desk, several chairs, and a bookshelf up against the wall. He moved to it, browsing over the titles and relieved to see some were familiar and all in English.

"Sam?"

A timid voice made him startle. Sam turned in a flash to see Wanda at the doorway, looking a bit lost.

"What's up?" He replied, doing his best to seem nonchalant. Wanda had suffered the most out of them who'd been imprisoned on the Raft, and he had yet to see her use her powers even once after leaving, not even to check and see if T'Challa was trustworthy. Her entire body, now that he though about it, moved in short, slow bursts, as if she expected to be punished for any sudden movement, like she had on the Raft.

"I…" she trailed off, looking even more uncomfortable. "I mean this completely platonically but I…" she blurted the last bit out in rush. "I don't want to sleep alone, can I please stay with you? Just sleeping on the floor."

Sam blinked, surprised, but only moments later understood. Of course. Wanda was probably terrified of herself by this point, not trusting her powers to not hurt someone while she slept. After staying in the same area as them four going on four months, she was feeling out of her depth, staying alone. His heart twisted in his chest, and Sam nodded.

"Why in the world would I say no? You're a sister to me, Wanda, I hope you know that. You can have the bed."

"I… thank you." Wanda's hand flew to her mouth, and her shoulders jerked. Sam stepped forwards, placing his hands on her shoulders. "After all of this… I can't…" her breath hitched and she began to cry. "I can't bring myself to use my powers. It hurts."

Sam embraced his friend (sister), holding her close as she cried. "You don't need to," he murmured. "These things take time, you know. And it's all over now. We can relax and recover."

They stayed like that for a while, until Sam's shirt was wet and Wanda's sobs had laxed into small sniffles.

"I miss him," she murmured into his chest. "I miss Steve."

Sam almost protested, almost said that Steve was right in the other room, but then connected the silent husk to the stubborn, confident man he had first befriended. He gave Wanda a brief squeeze.

"Yeah," he whispered back. "I miss him, too."

* * *

In the living room, Steve waited until only Cooper was in the room with him. Making sure the kid was distracted playing on his phone, he opened his mouth. Almost desperately, he tried to make a sound come out.

All he received was a pitiful rasp.

* * *

Rhodey blinked, staring at the package on his doorstep, the Stark Industries logo emblazoned on it. There was a note attached. He read it.

 _Pep has me restricted to only four hours in the lab per day now, but I managed to throw this together for you. I hope it works; I used the measurements from War Machine, so as long as you haven't gained ten pounds it should fit alright. It's a bit basic, but should work well._

— _T.S._

* * *

 **Yes, something's very wrong with Steve. Will he tell? You'll have to see in Part 3, where our fractured Avengers face Bucky's lasting legacy, Pepper meeting with Team Cap (Clint, Scott, and Sam), and a whole host of mental issues. There also may or may not be a section on Peter Parker and how he deals with the Vulture since Tony's out of the picture (getting therapy and all that). You guys tell me if you want to see that.**

 **I've also taken to calling this AU the** _ **Purpose**_ **universe. Thoughts?**

 **Reviews!**

 **Flare** —Thank you!

 **Dragonaws** —After thinking about it I was inclined to believe you. I hope a third chapter of the _Purpose_ universe suits you alright!

 **Black' Victor Cachat (All four reviews)** —First off, let me just say that you have my sincerest thanks for reviewing all _four_ chapters! I was really blown away and can only say thank you. (1) Loki deserved better. Though I reluctantly admitted to myself that being killed by Thanos was a good end to his character arc, I thought it could have been executed better. (2) I haven't actually read the comics, mostly because I don't know where to start, haha. You have to love Deadpool, though. (3) I'm glad you caught that little tidbit! I'm probably going to make Steve's shield semi-sentient for most of my less serious chapters. (4) Really, the inhumane part of the Raft was all placed on Wanda, and, as you will see later on, Steve. They both are suffering serious issues right now because of the place.

 **Guest** —Continued. Thank you!

 **4evaDayDreamer** —Steve!Whump really is the best. Looking through my planned chapters and upcoming story, actually, I've realized I put him through a bunch of crap. I may have a problem.

 **Guest(2)** —Actually, I didn't, but now I can see a connection. Calvinball makes up the rules as the players go, and that's what I'm doing here. In reality, I named this story _Captainball!_ after a joke in the _Avengers_ HISHE, when Cap curls himself into a tiny ball to fit behind the shield. It's silly, random, but also also has serious connotations (how many times did Steve get shot before he learned to hide behind the shield like that?), which I though fit this collection.

 **Anyways, thanks for reading! Please favorite, follow, and review; let's make it to 20 reviews and 30 favs!**


	6. tONY wHY Part 3

**I'm not joking when I say I wrote for about four hours today to get the last half of this out. It's roughly edited, but I'm glad to say that this little story arc is finally DONE. No one asked for Peter Parker, so I ended up scrapping his possible storyline.**

 **Also, this monster is over 7,000 words. So… sorry?**

* * *

 **Part 6:**

To Sam's surprise, dinner consisted of store-bought pizza.

It was a nice taste of home, no matter how how far away they actually were. The Bartons already seemed well-adjusted, and although T'Challa and his mother's presence seemed to be a bit unusual, Lila had no problem giving him a very chipper and informal "Hello!" when he arrived. Their conversations were more like small talk than any actual conversation, everyone doing their best to avoid broaching the elephant in the room.

The only exceptions to this had been the younger Barton kids (only Cooper was old enough to really understand what was going on), Shuri, and Pym. Shuri had insisted sitting next to the former inventor, and as soon as they had begun the meal she'd started to just bombard him with questions about the Pym particle and Quantum Realm. Sam could barely grasp at the basics of their conversation, as once Pym got over the initial shock of a teenager understanding his work perhaps even better than he did, they'd quickly fallen into such a deep and jargon-laced discussion that even his daughter (Hope! Scott finally called her by name during dinner, and Sam committed it to memory) looked lost.

Again, Steve said nothing, and although he ate several slices of pizza, his appetite seemed to have yet to fully return. At this point Sam was starting to get really worried. The threats present in the Raft were finally gone, and they were really safe for the first time in months. Was he coping with a return of his PTSD? Sam thought about the possibility for a time, and eventually decided that although the disorder was definitely contributing to the problem, that wasn't what was _really_ bothering Steve. For although Steve was definitely distant, he lacked the paranoia and "jumpiness" that he'd exhibited when dealing with the disorder in the days after the Winter Soldier and Ultron debacles. And he'd also been able to hide his PTSD almost perfectly. Only he (for Sam was the closest person to a therapist Steve trusted) and Fury (he's Fury) knew about it in the first place. Was it grief? That probably played a part as well, but Sam doubted grief would render a man mute for months on end. And Steve had suffered heart-shattering losses before, and it had never elicited a response in him such as this.

Suddenly his combination pizza hadn't seemed so appetizing anymore. Sam knew how to deal with PTSD, even if he wasn't an official therapist. He had no clue what was going on if it wasn't that.

Sam's eyes caught with Wanda's as they ate, and he subtly flickered his eyes towards Steve, silently asking her to peek inside his mind and see if anything was wrong. Usually he wouldn't even consider something like that, but he was getting seriously worried. But Wanda's eye only widened slightly with terror, and she shook her head.

Oh, yeah. It hurt Wanda to use her powers. Sam had nearly forgotten about that, and he winced guiltily. He made a mental note to ask for a therapist for both her and Steve. They both were bearing heavy mental blocks from their time on the Raft. In response, he simply nodded in gentle understanding at Wanda. However, and she seemed to shrink a bit further into her seat in mixture of shame and embarrassment.

Sam let out a soft sigh. Was being a leader always this difficult? He certainly never had been made for the job, but the position had just seemed to fall on him ever since Bucky had died.

Dinner ended, and everyone stood up and got ready to leave. Clint scooped up Nathaniel in one arm and pulled an only slightly willing Cooper to his side with the other, and announced that he was going to spend some time with his family, to try and catch up some more. Scott trailed off to the kitchen with Hope at his side, and Pym and Shuri took their discussion into the living room, going on about time travel or something similar now. Even Steve left for the garden after a few minutes, eyes lingering on Sam long enough to let him know that the former leader of the Avengers wasn't completely disconnected from reality. Wanda lingered, and Sam moved to talk to her, but a hand placing itself on his shoulder made him pause. He turned to see T'Challa standing next to him.

"Could we talk in private, Mr. Wilson?" He asked.

Sam blinked, caught off guard, then nodded. "If I can call you T'Challa, you can call me Sam."

T'Challa just nodded, serious, and Sam realized that he wanted to discuss something serious. He said nothing more, letting the Wakandan lead him into his suite's office. Together, they sat down across from each other. A moment or so passed in silence as Sam watched T'Challa close his eyes and take a deep breath, almost as if he were nervous about something. Maybe he was.

"I was in Siberia," he finally announced heavily. "During the fight between Rogers and Stark."

Sam stiffened, questions spinning through his head, but he said nothing, letting the other continue on after a moment's pause.

"I was tracking Barnes, wishing to find both him and Rogers after discovering that Barnes was innocent of killing my father. I barely arrived in time to capture Zemo before he could make his escape. But arresting him delayed me, and be the time I arrived, Stark had captured Rogers. All that was left was…" he trailed off for a moment, taken back in the memory emotional. "Barnes. And he wasn't dead."

Sam's breath left his throat. Tony… if he hadn't killed Bucky, then…

But T'Challa was quick to dash his hopes. "He was gravely injured. He died in my arms."

Sam bit his lip and looked down, taking a moment to compose himself. He'd never known Bucky very well, but it almost felt as if he did, after searching for the man for over two years at Steve's side, and their fight together against that spider-kid back at the airport.

He almost laughed. The airport battle felt as if it had happened a decade ago, now only an unpleasant memory compared to what had happened next.

"What did he say?" He finally asked.

"He asked for Captain Rogers, and begged for his safety," T'Challa replied, voice thick. It was obvious the memory caused a lot of pain for him. "Apologised to me more times than I could count. He—" Now this obviously had hit him hard. It was astonishing to Sam that the king was showing so much emotion in front of him. "Forgave me for what I had done, even though it was what got him into this situation and part of the reason why he had died. I don't think I'll ever be deserving of that. I am hoping that by aiding you I can repay at least some of that debt."

He fell silent for a moment longer. When Sam opted not to respond, T'Challa pressed on.

"I wanted to talk with you first, because I am unsure of Captain Rogers' mental state, only that it is not the most stable right now. And rightly so. I wanted to get you input on the situation before bringing this to him. We have buried Barnes here, among our war veterans. Since Captain Rogers is listed as his next of kin, only he would be able to decide if he wanted to move the grave to America or anywhere else."

Sam dimly remembered when Steve had told him about that. Before enlisting in the war, when they lived in poverty, they'd listed each other as their next of kin, just in case something had happened. It seemed that the US government had never changed that on the official documents.

"We need to tell him," he decided, finally opting to speak, still just trying to process all this information. "Of course. But I'm not sure how he'll react. Like you said, he isn't the most stable right now. He hasn't said a single word, you know. Not since his first day on the Raft."

T'Challa's eyes flashed with worry. "I'll get my doctors on it. And perhaps, now that you're here, all of you can recover."

Sam shrugged helplessly. "I hope so."

* * *

Sam was the one who told Steve. The former Avenger, however, had hardly reacted, except to stare blankly out his bedroom window, looking as if he was lost in a sea of memories. Maybe he was.

Still, he went to bed early that night, dressing in a T-shirt and sweatpants that had been given to him by the Wakandans. He let out a sigh as he sat down on the bed, mattress sinking down almost as if it was going to swallow him whole. After months of sleeping on the metal benches of the Raft, he had figured it would be difficult to adjust to an actual bed once again.

Huffing to himself, and by now well used to the routine, he snatched the sheets off the bed, bunching them next to it, on the ground. He grabbed one of the smaller pillows that didn't look like it would smother him in his sleep, and pulled the huge comforter off the bed. Laying down, he tested it to see if the floor was more comfortable. Yep, save for the pillow. But in the end, there wasn't much he could do about that.

He was just standing up to turn off the lights when the door opened. He flinched involuntarily, but immediately relaxed upon seeing that the intruder was Wanda, in a long-sleeved nightdress.

"Sorry…" She murmured, looking extremely embarrassed. Sam shrugged nonchalantly.

"I get it. But like I said earlier, you're practically my little sister. I won't try anything."

It was a bit awkward, as Wanda looked down at the pile of sheets on the floor. Then, she giggled, and the tension dissipated a bit.

"One night here and you've already ruined the room," she chuckled. Sam hid a flush as he hurried to defend himself.

"The bed's too soft."

Wanda shrugged, giving him the excuse. "Yeah. I tried laying down on my bed, and it felt as if I was being swallowed alive."

"You get used to sleeping on the ground," Sam replied, sitting down cross-legged on the sheets. "Cap and I were the same way when we got back from our respective wars."

"Well, I'm exhausted," Wanda yawned, sitting down as well, her back up against the side of the bed. "Today has been just… chaotic."

Sam's mind flashed back to meeting his mother (his heart gave a painful twinge when he thought of her, alone in the US and fighting a war he little to no experience. Then there was Wakanda as a whole and the Bucky/Steve situations. How in the world did Steve ever handle leading the Avengers during the Ultron and Loki fiascos? He was developing more and more respect for the man the more he remained as de facto leader.

"Well, are we interrupting something?"

Sam and Wanda's heads snapped up in unison as Scott crept in, pulling Steve in with him by the arm. The former seemed a bit surprised, while Steve simply looked at them with a blank, empty scare.

Wanda blushed furiously as Sam shrugged.

"Can't sleep on my own," He took the blame. "I've gotten too used to staying with you guys."

"Really?" Scott raised an eyebrow, slightly confused, but Sam shook his head slightly, not wanting to embarrass Wanda further. The new superhero gained a look of understanding, and then he grinned, flopping down on the bed. Then he launched himself back up again, gasping. "Yeah, pretty sure the beds here are gonna eat me alive. I was going to with Steve to talk with you, but if you're busy—"

"Nope." Sam got Scott into a headlock and dragged him to the floor, where they fell in a tangle of limbs. "You're stuck with us now."

"What? Is this a sleepover, now?"

"We've been sleeping in the same area for four months. I need company."

Scott wriggled his way out of Sam's grip, a rueful grin on his face as he nearly rolled into Steve's feet, the latter looking extremely awkward. The former thief looked up as Steve stared down at him, before he abruptly yanked the veteran's feet out from under him and sent them both to the ground. Wanda let out a cry of surprise as Scott just laughed, grabbing Steve's arm, stiff from surprise or shock and grinned up at Sam.

"We ought to bring in Clint," he chuckled. "He can sing us all a lullaby."

Sam's own smile turned crude, and he waved off the comment. "Oh, he's probably having some _quality time_ with his wife right now. It would probably be best not to interrupt them."

Steve let out a large puff of air through his nose that either could have been from exasperation or humor, and let his head fall into the pile of sheets as Wanda reddened further.

"You are all so…" she trailed off, threading her hands through her hair as she tried to find the right word to say. "Such _men_."

That sent Sam and Scott into another round of laughter, the former grabbing Wanda and yanking them all together in a hot mess of tangled limbs and blankets as Scott used voice command to turn off the lights.

There, with Steve's head cutting off the blood flow to his left arm, Scott draped over his stomach and Wanda somehow sandwiched between the two former Avengers, Sam fell asleep.

* * *

Despite its jovial beginnings, the night was long and hard. But that was to be expected. They had all gone through too much to just be alright within a day. They all had their own nightmares, and when they came everyone else seemed to be woken up as well. Wanda was first, bolting up in bed screaming Pietro's name, a hand hitting Sam in the eye and kneeing Steve in the abdomen. Scott wasn't a screamer, surprisingly, but his pitiful whimpers in his sleep, about tearing himself apart and shrinking until no one ever found him, had gotten them all up as well. Most surprisingly, Steve shot up around two in the morning screaming until they'd finally managed to calm him down, shivering and sweating and pale; it had been the first thing he'd voiced since arriving at the Raft and Sam didn't really understand why. But in the end, even he dreamt, seeing Bucky, blood dripping out of a hole in his chest and asking why Sam had given Stark the location where he and Steve were headed. He'd woken up having shoved off Scott and smacked Wanda in his sleep.

But it was okay. Because they were all in this together. Steve silently held Wanda as she sobbed into his chest. Wanda herself had listened to Scott cry softly as he recounted story after story about Cassie and how he hated that he was going to miss so much of her life. Scott and Sam worked to help hold and calm Steve down during his night terror, and in the aftermath Sam talked to him in a low murmur, repeating everything that had happened to them in the past few years to reassure him that he was in the right time period, leaving out anything relating to Bucky. When Sam had shot up at four in the morning, Scott, Wanda and Steve had all been waiting, and offered a quiet comfort as he recovered.

So they were all exhausted in the morning. But they felt just a bit better. Definitely more so than if they had slept alone.

T'Challa sent them in for medical evaluations that day, and they were all checked out to be generally healthy, if a little malnourished and lacking in Vitamin D. They got pills for the latter and a diet for the former, but that was it. Even Steve passed with little trouble, with nothing damaging his vocal chords (though Sam wasn't surprised, judging by how loud his friend had screamed last night), but some dizziness and hearing problems.

The mental evaluations went slower. Scott, Clint and Sam went in first, knowing that they would be the quickest. Clint had been the only one to leave without a diagnosis (no doubt thanks to his time in SHIELD adjusting him to situations like the one on the Raft), while he and Scott were both diagnosed with Acute Stress Disorder, which was basically a less severe form of PTSD, with Sam being the more serious case.

Wand had went in next, and that evening the psychologist assigned to them, a Doctor Lebina Tesfa, had told her in a quiet tone that she had Adjustment Disorder, a mental illness that came with constant and heavy stress in her life, no doubt thanks to the shock collar she'd been given to reign in her powers. As a result, her body now negatively reacted to using her powers, but it would fade around two to three months from the present.

And then they waited for Steve. By far the longest, since he wasn't speaking, it'd taken a couple hours for him just to go through the basic evaluation. But in the end they had figured it out.

He had been diagnosed with PTSD, but that was no doubt a remnant of the plane crash and fall of SHIELD than anything. The second disorder they had called Conversion Disorder.

It made sense. Steve's frequent detachment and inability to speak consciously, and why he'd been able to scream during his nightmare all matched up with its symptoms. The doctors explained that the brain, trying to deal with whatever had happened during the Civil War, had gotten overloaded with stress, and was having trouble processing all the information it received now. His ears and vocal chords were working just fine, his brain just couldn't figure out how to use the information and thus discarded it. The added death of Barnes had only made everything much worse. They didn't know when it would fade; all they could do was give him therapy, keep him in a stress-free environment as much as possible, and hope for the best.

And so it was.

Weeks passed. Every night, they slept in the same room, save for Clint (but even then he joined in every once in a while), and worked on small projects and hobbies. A week after arriving, Shuri presented Sam with a new and upgraded version of his Falcon suit (how she'd gotten the plans for it, he didn't know) and Clint with a vibranium bow and quiver, with new arrow types and tracking system on the arrows so he could find them after a battle. Pym came a week later, Shuri at his side, and they presented two suits, the Ant-Man and the Wasp, to Scott and Hope. Steve's shield was long lost to Stark, but T'Challa gifted him and month in with two retractable shields that could condense into gauntlets for easier close combat. Nakia, T'Challa's girlfriend, took a special interest in Wanda, and the two formed a strong friendship as the Sokovian slowly but surely began to use her powers once again.

Mostly, though, they avoided training. Clint helped with the heavily lifting and building in Shuri's lab when he needed a distraction. Sam had found it near impossible to find Steve without a sketchbook at his side, and he himself had worked through half the books in his personal library by this point. Scott took up wood carving, using his precise and nimble fingers to mold odd and often almost frightening creatures from the wood, which he insisted was because Cassie liked it.

Speaking of, Maggie and Jim arrived with Cassie to visit around two months in. All wide eyes and open mouths, Scott had taken great pleasure in touring them around the capitol city and showing Cassie all the sights. T'Challa had perhaps too much fun in ordering extravagant dinners with Wakanda's elite for them, with the excuse that they were the first US civilians to enter into Wakanda's borders, and thus must be treated properly.

Lila and Cassie struck up a strong friendship almost immediately, and the two both claimed Steve as their own two days in when he looked for monsters under their beds. Sam teased him relentlessly about it, but he had to admit it was cute, with the two eight-year-olds following him around like little ducklings. They even didn't mind Steve's muteness, taking his sign language and few whispered words as a great guessing game, and one they were quickly getting better at.

In short, they were no longer a team.

They were a family.

* * *

It was a bright, sunny summer day. Steve and Sam had gone out to one of the many parks in the Wakandan capitol, taking Cassie and Lila with them, to help with weeding and planting flowers in an area that had previously been neglected. It had been a great chance to get out of the palace for a few hours, and Cassie had immediately found great enjoyment in tearing up plants and weeds alike, while Lila worked more systematically, having learned the difference between the two on the farm. It was hard work, but great fun. It was nice to be able to do something that was helping them earn their keep in Wakanda, and the girls were certainly having a lot of fun as well, even if Cassie was doing more harm than good in the process, much to Sam's amusement.

Steve shovelled up a large clod of dirt, moving out of the way as Sam placed down a bunch of Kniphofias, red cone-shaped flowers, into the hole. Taking a shovel, Steve shovelled some fertilizer and dumped it at the roots.

"Girls! We got another bush done!" Sam called as Steve smiled, taking up another shovelful of dirt as Cassie and Lila, both covered in dirt and giggling. Together they lept to the bottom of the plant, energetically patting down the dirt so Steve could fit in some more.

Sam smiled to himself, looking up and wiping some sweat from his face. It was almost a ninety degrees today, and pretty humid to boot. Taking a moment to brush some of the dirt off of his leather shirt (they'd taken to dressing more like the general populace of Wakanda as to better fit in), he wiped some sweat off his brow.

"Lookie!" Cassie giggled, holding up a wriggling earthworm. Steve set his shovel down momentarily and signed at her to put the worm back where it belonged. Sam echoed his friend's request, and the young girl let out an over dramatic sigh and put it back on the ground.

"You all seem to have adjusted well."

A female voice, American-accented, floated over to them, and Steve froze, immediately shutting down as Sam tried to place where he had heard that voice before. Then, it clicked, and as Lila gasped in surprise, he shot up, whipping around to see Pepper Potts, dressed in a white button-up shirt. Sam's heart dropped as he caught sight of Rhodey behind her. He was _walking_ , although he was wearing a pair of high-tech braces he'd never seen before.

As Steve steered Cassie and Lila towards him, now completely on guard, Sam stepped in front of the three protectively, although he couldn't keep his eyes from drifting over to Rhodey. A flare of guilt for what he'd done at the airport battle flared in his chest once again. It was his fault Rhodey would be permanently injured.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, wiping the dirt off of his hands and onto his pants. He didn't think that they were here to fight, of course, but the last time he'd trusted someone who supported the Accords, Bucky had gotten killed and Steve scarred for life.

Pepper didn't seem phased by this reaction, however, and both she and Rhodey kept a good five feet in between them before speaking.

"Visiting," she answered politely but amiably. "Honestly, we've been a bit worried. I haven't heard anything about you since you were released from the Raft."

"We've been good," Sam replied slowly. He relaxed slightly, more for Steve's sake than his own. "I hope you're recovering well, Rhodey."

"Well enough," the veteran responded. "You know the deal. The braces help, too." He paused for a moment, eyes locking with Sam's, before continuing. "I don't blame you, you know. It was an accident. We were all at fault."

The atmosphere quickly became awkward. Wanting to escape from some of this tension, Sam looked over to Steve, who after a moment of hesitation, quickly signed that they ought to sit down. The motions were not lost on Pepper and Rhodey, but they didn't mention it as Steve easily lifted up Cassie, who squealed in delight as Lila took the elder man's hand.

"Let's sit down," Sam announced. They walked out from the path he, Steve and the girl's had been working on, and to a picnic table not too far away. Steve signed to the girls to go out at and play, and they nodded, Lila shouting that she was Loki and back to destroy Wakanda and Cassie declaring herself Ant-Woman, devoted to stopping her. "I assume you're here for a reason."

Pepper watched the girls go with a strange look in her eye, but quickly returned to the matter at hand.

"Yes, but nothing malicious." Her eyes flickered over to Steve. "What are you doing with your hands?" Steve reddened slightly in a mixture of frustration and shame, and Sam was quick to answer for him.

"Conversion Disorder. He can't talk most of the time, and his hearing goes in and out at random. It's a mental trauma disorder. But it's fine; he's learned sign language and is recovering well."

Steve quickly signed four letters in quick succession. Sam scowled.

"Why do you want to know about _him_?" More signing. "Dude. He doesn't deserve crap. He's a murderous bastard and can die in a hole for all I care." Steve seemed conflicted at that, as if part of him agreed, but the greater portion of him, the portion of him that had made him Captain America, was trying to pretend that the feeling didn't exist. He signed a chastisement to Sam. "I don't care if they're right in front of us." He signed again and pointed to his right hand's ring finger. Sam blinked in surprise, and looked back to Pepper, who seemed torn between being offended and confused. Sure enough, there was a large diamond ring on her finger. Huh.

Sam let out a long sigh that made it _very_ clear that he didn't like this, but relayed Steve's question. "Steve wants to know how Tony's doing." Steve tapped Sam's shoulder to garner his attention for a moment and sighed rapidly. "Seriously?" Steve shot him a scathing look. " _Fine._ He says congratulations on the engagement as well."

Pepper blushed slightly as she twisted the ring. "Yeah. He asked me last week. Tony's doing alright, too. A lot better than when right after the battle, anyways."

"He's seeing a therapist," Rhodey added, serious. "He didn't deal with the events in Siberia well, either."

"He doesn't have the right to feel like that," Sam muttered under his breath. Steve kicked him in the shin.

"For what it's worth, Tony sends his most sincere apologies." Before Sam could reply indignantly to that as well, Pepper pressed on. "And he adds that he knows it's worth nothing, but it's all he can do. He wanted to come with us to Wakanda and say it personally, but Ross is keeping a very close eye on him."

"It was difficult for us to sneak in here as it was, and even then we had to get T'Challa's permission. We aren't staying for long. Officially, Pepper and I are on our way to a meeting New Delhi," Rhodey put in.

Sam moved to say something, but Steve placed a hand on his shoulder, silencing him, and stood up, walking over to Pepper's side. Confused, Pepper looked up, and Sam tried to figure out what in the world his friend was doing.

Slowly, as if to doing so would make them understand, Steve balled his hand into a fist and tapped it on the center of his chest. Then, he held out his left palm horizontally, drawing the tips of the fingers on his right hand across the length of it twice. Finally, he pointed at Pepper's ring. The woman blinked, caught off guard, and it took Sam a moment to decipher the last motion. Pronouns were always difficult to figure out in ASL if said person wasn't present.

His throat closed once he understood. Tony didn't deserve that. But Steve wanted it said, and this time he couldn't find it in him to say no.

"He said: 'I forgive him.'"

There was a long pause. Rhodey looked down, a hand covering his mouth and clearly caught off guard by unexpected declaration. After a moment, Pepper shot up, wrapping Steve in a crushing hug and crying softly. Sam looked away. He just couldn't understand how Steve could find it in him to do something like that. Tony had murdered his friend practically in cold blood and sent them all to the Raft for the next four months, and here he was two months later, forgiving him.

 _Not a good soldier, but a good man._

Perhaps Sam really understood what Erskine meant now.

Rhodey shifted, and passed a flip phone to him from across the table. The elder man seemed slightly uncomfortable, but determined in his decision.

"We came to give you this. If you ever need us, just call. I'll do the same."

Sam took the phone, and for a moment, was sorely tempted to throw it into the flowers he'd just planted, or smash it into bits. But then he looked at Steve, and how he was beginning to relax in Pepper's arms and return the hug.

Perhaps Sam needed to learn a thing or two from Erskine's words. He pocketed the phone, and promised.

 _Never forgive. Never forget. But perhaps I can come to accept that it happened._

"If you need us, we'll be there."

* * *

It was raining.

July had given way to August a scarce week ago, and as such Cassie and her family finally returned home to US. It had been cloudy all day, and around noon it had started to sprinkle. Within the next half an hour it was almost as if it the sky was dumping buckets on the ground. Everyone was stuck inside, and things were getting a bit boring. Sam himself laid on the sofa reading a book, while Steve sketched something on a notepad in a chair in the corner of the living room. Lila, Nathaniel (who had just turned two), and Cooper were watching some cartoon on the TV, Clint was french braiding Laura's hair, and Scott was sprawled on the ground, muttering about how bored he was.

Wanda entered the living room during all of this, her eyes skimming over them before landing on the glass window that lead to garden outside. She seemed slightly afraid, but marched towards the door. Sam set down his book, watching her.

"What's up?" He questioned. Wanda glanced at him for a moment, seeming torn between bursting with excitement or nervousness.

"Just… trying something out."

Without another word, she opened the door and stepped out into the rain.

Sam stood up, ready to go make sure she was alright, but then he caught sight of something. A flicker of red. Scott gasped, sitting straight up from his horizontal position.

"She's using her magic as an umbrella!" He exclaimed. That got everyone up. Before now, Wanda had only been able to use her magic in small bursts, only able to do little things before the pain became too great for her to handle.

And yet here she was, a grin, splitting her face in half, stopping the rain from hitting her.

Clint got up next and practically raced out the door, enveloping Wanda in a bone-crushing hug as he laughed. Caught by surprise, Wanda let the shield drop, immediately drenching them both, but neither seemed to care, hold each other and giggling like schoolgirls.

"Wait for me!" Lila exclaimed, getting up. Grabbing Steve's arm (the supersoldier no doubt letting her drag him along), she pulled him out of the living room and into the rain, the sketchbook clattering to the ground.

"Well, I'm not getting left out!" Scott exclaimed, and then he was out in the rain as well, Cooper on his heels. Laura stood up as well, picking up Nathaniel from his place on the ground and stopping by Sam.

"You coming?" She asked, unable to stop her own smile. Sam grinned, setting down his book.

"Why not?"

Then he raced out into the rain, Laura letting out a wild cry as they crashed into the water droplets, the branches of the trees in the garden hardly seeming to stop anything at all. Sam blinked water out of his eyes to see Steve set Lila on his shoulders, and watched Clint practically throw Wanda into the air, the young woman crying in joy as red sparks flashed from her hands and making small, warm fireworks in the sky.

"It just—" Wanda had to pause as she shot off another firework. "I was in my room, trying to levitate a book, and it just _clicked_!"

Then there was a new sound. A deep, throaty laugh, nothing like Scott's high chuckle or Clint's barks. Sam looked up.

And saw that Steve had his head thrown back, laughing into the wind.

They stood there for a long time, completely drenched, everyone just laughing and hugging and kissing in a sticky, soaking mess of bodies and cold and heat all at once.

* * *

It was really no surprise when everyone except Clint and Steve came down with the flu over the next few days.

 _Worth it,_ Sam would think, curled in blankets as Clint and Hope made tomato soup. Scott was curled at his feet, Wanda leaning into his side, Laura his other, Lila on Steve's lap, Nathaniel in his crib, and Cooper in bed.

 _Definitely worth it._

* * *

Bucky's grave was small, easily passed over by onlookers not specifically looking for him. Like the rest of the dead buried here, spies and Dora Milaje and soldiers, it was a simple headstone that had once been white but had turned cream in the rain and sun.

It read:

 _James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes_

" _If you cannot change the wind, turn your sails."_

 _March 10, 1918—May 8, 2016_

Steve came here every once in a while. Whenever he did, Sam usually followed, staying back and offering silent support and shoulder to cry on when the memories got particularly bad for him. Usually, though, when they drove out here, to this small graveyard at the very edge of the city, Steve would just sit in front of Bucky's grave, replace the bouquet of flowers already there with a new one, and speak of what had happened since his last visit, as if Bucky were still alive and listening intently to every word.

The months had seemed to blur together after the return of Wanda's powers. They hadn't come back completely, and Doctor Tesfa wasn't sure if they ever would, but at this point hardly anyone cared. Steve's voice had taken longer. At first it would wane in and out, but by the first anniversary of Bucky's death he was speaking almost perfectly. Cooper and Lila enrolled in school, and Pym and Shuri worked tirelessly on the Pym particle, improving it so that Hope and Scott could phase in and out of objects through the Quantum Realm almost effortlessly.

Natasha arrived a year and a half after Siberia, with blond hair and new weapons but the same icy yet warm personality that she somehow made work. No one asked where she had been and she never said anything, but she'd been accepted into their family with the appropriate fanfare. Wherever she had been, it certainly hadn't been on the side of Stark, the UN, or the Accords.

Wanda started leaving, going on little "vacations" in disguise, which everyone knew was really just an excuse to get together with Vision. Usually, Clint or Natasha would go with her, keep an eye for danger from afar while giving her a chance to find some stolen moments with her lover. She was somewhere in Scotland currently, Clint leaving for a couple of days as her bodyguard. Whenever she returned it was all in smiles and happiness, and although Sam didn't like Vision, not for supporting Tony or the Accords or _shooting that beam so that when he dodged it would hit Rhodey_ , he couldn't help but feel happy for her.

When Wanda wasn't out, they trained, finally coming out of hiatus to learn how to work together and as a team once again. Four months ago they had started taking missions, both from what Natasha picked up and what T'Challa needed them to do to protect Wakanda's security outside its borders, where the Dora Milaje held less sway. They'd busted black market vibranium sales, saved the Prime Minister of India from terrorists, and crushed some HYDRA and AIM offshoots that would pop up every now and then.

All in all, life was getting better.

Sam couldn't help but think about all of this as he watched Steve kneel down once again in front of Bucky's grave. Besides his mental changes, he had physically changed drastically since the events in Siberia, growing out his hair and sporting a full beard. He looked older, more worn, but also much more wise and beginning to act like the one hundred year old man he actually was. Sam supposed he was same, that the rest of the team was the same.

Two and a half years had passed since the Civil War.

Steve reached out a single hand, lightly brushing it against Bucky's gravestone. However, he didn't begin to talk like he normally did, instead opting to just kneel there, staring almost intently at the words engraved in the headstone. Sam watched, wondering what his friend was doing, as five, ten, fifteen minutes passed in silence.

"T'Challa told me," Steve began abruptly, startling Sam and drawing him out of his thoughts. "That you liked the snow. You used to love winter as a kid; we'd always build snow forts in back allies and run until our lungs burned back in New York". He chuckled, looking down and lost in memories decades old. "Do you remember that one time, on Christmas Day in 1944, when you nailed me in the back of the head with a snowball and starting a full out war with the Commandos and the 107th?"

He fell silent again, as if waiting for an answer. Of course, none came.

"I'm not sure how to say this, Buck." Steve finally continued. Sam suddenly had the feeling that he was intruding on an especially private moment, even more so than his previous visits. "But I've been thinking a lot lately. About you. My team. Tony and the Accords. And I think—"

It suddenly became too much, and Steve had to cut himself off, overcome with emotion. He raised a hand to his mouth, taking a couple deep breaths.

"'I'm getting better now, Buck. And I'll always be with you 'till the end of the line, but I gotta move on at some point. By now you'd probably be ready to smack me upside the head with the way I'm acting, moping around and feeling sorry for myself. Well, your old self would. I'm not too sure about your post-HYDRA self. I think one of my biggest regrets will always be not getting to know that part of you better. I'm not ready to move on. And I don't think I ever will be. But it's about time I ought to." He pulled out a framed picture from the inside of his jacket, and placed it at the foot of Bucky's grave. "So—" he choked up once again and had to pause. Sam wanted with every fiber of his being to help, to comfort Steve, but he realised at around the same time what was occurring, and that Steve needed to do this on his own. "Here's a parting gift. I drew it for you."

Sam peeked over Steve's shoulder to get a glimpse of the portrait. It was Bucky, as expected, sitting in the cockpit of the Quinjet. He seemed to be uncertain, hunched over slightly, but determined at the same time, a certain glint in his eyes that said that Bucky knew something big or frightening was about to happen. No doubt Steve had sketched this from memory, and if Sam had to guess a time, he'd say it was right before they arrived in Siberia.

"I'm sorry. But this is goodbye. I'm gonna let you rest, now."

Steve drew back his hands, and stood up. Sam stepped forwards as the super soldier turned around on one heel, but he needed no help, walking determinedly back to the car without looking back once.

"Steve," Sam began quietly, once they had left the graveyard. Steve paused, letting out a long breath. "I think he'd be real proud of you right now."

Steve smiled. A real smile, something that had slowly become more and more common over the last year. He and Sam shared a quick embrace, then entered the car, firing it up and preparing to go home.

Then, a ringtone.

Sam paused, key halfway in the ignition, before realizing that the sound was coming from his pocket. Alarm quickly coursing through his veins, he snatched up the flip phone Rhodey had given him more than two years ago, and answered it. What had happened? Was Rhodey (not Tony. Who cared about him?) alright?

"Hello?" He greeted.

"Oh, God." There was a panting sound, meaning that the caller was out of breath, and it took a moment for Sam to recognize the voice of Bruce Banner, who had been missing since the events of Ultron.

"Bruce?!" He exclaimed. He and Steve shared a look, and Sam raised the phone so they could both listen.

"He's here. Tony's gone. Vision is in danger. You have to find him, _now_."

"Bruce, what's going on? What are you talking about?" Steve almost demanded, any trace of what he had just done in the graveyard wiped off his faced as he slipped back into the persona of Captain America.

"Thanos. He's coming."

Samm narrowed his eyes, already getting a pretty good picture of what was happening. He quickly picked up his mobile phone and set it to call T'Challa. An enemy was coming, one strong enough to defeat Tony and be a serious threat to Vision. He needed to know nothing else. So he just repeated what he had told Rhodey:

"You need us, we'll be there."

* * *

 **There! If anyone wants to write an IW AU for this, I'd love to see it. But I think I'm good stopping here. I hope you liked this story; I had a ton of fun writing it.**

 **Reviews (Only one? C'mon, guys. Let me know if you don't like a chapter):**

 **Flare** —Thanks! I hoped this chapter lived up to your expectations. I ended up rushing it because I wasn't sure when I'd finish it if it wasn't today.

 **Next Chapter:** Thor, Shuri, and Peter are meme lords and become best bros in the process. No Infinity War.


	7. One Last Chance, Part 1

_**Avengers: Endgame**_ **had me going through some of my old writing notebooks, and this partially-written story was one of them. Apparently, transcribing stories from a notebook to a document is really soothing. So I ended transcribing the first half of this story in less than a week. I hope you enjoy, and if you find some odd typos, blame voice-to-text and let me know. :-)**

 **This was written before** _ **Endgame**_ **, so that movie isn't canon and there are no spoilers here.**

* * *

"You have one chance, Steve. Everything has to go perfectly. You sure you can do this? Are you both sure?"

Steve hesitated for just a moment, drying his eyes over the small crowd in the room. Bruce, the one who had spoken, looked at him with those piercing brown eyes that he'd come to be so familiar with these last few weeks as the scientist installed the last upgrades to the Ant-Man-esque suit he had just donned. Shuri was doing the same for Scott.

Outside the protective casing keeping the rest of the viewers safe, Natasha sat on the edge of her seat. Next to her with Clint, grasping tightly on to three-year-old in Nathaniel, his last remaining child. Okoye stood on the guard, ever loyal to the Wakandan monarch, especially now that she was a 16 year old girl. Wong sat just outside the bubble, flipping through books and muttering to himself, most likely trying to make sure that their procedure they were undertaking was a safest route possible, as Rhodey paced nervously. That raccoon guy, Rocket, with murdering almost angrily, and Thor, nearby, would occasionally respond to his words.

Steve took in all of this, committed it to memory, and nodded firmly.

"We can do it, "Scott announced, serious and determined, the expression extremely unusual on his usually easy-going face.

Bruce looked at him once again, now wavering only slightly. Steve forced a small smile, and the doctor a shot a smaller one back.

After a final check, Bruce and Shuri stepped out of the radiation zone. Rhodey stopped pacing, and looked at them with a sudden intensity.

"Keep him safe," he announced, voice thick with a familiar grief. Steve nodded firmly.

Tony Stark was dead. At least, they were pretty sure. He had gone up with Spider-Man and that the rest of the Guardians of the Galaxy to fight Thanos before the Battle of Wakanda, failed to protect the time stone, and had never returned. Rhodey's request was one of the unspoken goals of the mission.

"You ready?" he asked Scott. The former thief nodded. "Remember the HQ and Tower codes?"

Scott nodded again, and held out the rod. Steve grasped his end, and they tensed, ready to go.

Steve did not want to look at their surviving friends any longer. He had already committed to memory everything came I that no, and he didn't think he'd be able to go through with what they're planning if you looked at them again. So, he kept his eyes on Scott, and the Other man did the same.

Shuri's voice floated over to them, quiet but certain.

"Radiation will began in 5… 4… 3..."

Steve and Scott snapped their helmets closed, now fully protected as radiation began to pour into the chamber. They continued to stare almost intently at each other, determined to force themselves to actually go through with this.

"2."

Steve breathed, and then unison, they clicked the shrink button.

"1."

A sudden sucking sensation threw Steve forwards, followed by a crushing pressure all around him that stole the breath from his body. Desperately, he kept his eyes locked on Scott's mask as they shrunk down, down, down.

Then, they stopped.

Together, the two Avengers floated in the quantum realm, still shrinking at an incredibly fast rates but unable to detect the change any longer. Scott reached down, no words needing to be said, as he held out 2 disks. Steve took one, and placed it on his regulator Ascot in the same period between them, the rod that kept them together foot 3 glowed.

"So." Scott's chipper voice was almost painful, it was so fake. "Multi or single universe theory?"

Steve raised an eyebrow, then remembered at the motion can be seen through the mask.

"Not sure which I prefer."

Something beeped in the helmet. A warning.

"The wormhole is approaching," Scott announced. "3, 2, 1 -"

There was a great flash of light, and the world blurred around them once again.

Just before the wormhole reach them, however, Scott and Steve clicked their buttons and grew.

Then there was darkness.

* * *

Steve breathed.

Hardened after 2 and a half years on the run and just as long as a Howling Commando, he didn't move right away as he approached consciousness, hardly deepening his breaths as he came to.

A moment passed, and Steve quickly figured that he was lying on his bed in his D.C. house. No one was in the room, and judging by the warmth hitting only his feet, it was 6 or 7 o'clock in the morning. He twitched his fingers. They curled around the end of the rod. He breathed again, listening more intently. Sure enough, there was the faint echo of his suit respirator. He shifted slightly. Thoughts of the leather and the medal of his gloves.

Plan C, then.

Steve open does eyes and sat up quickly, ignoring the blood that rushed to his head. If what the Tasha remembered was correct (and it was, she never made a mistake), the bugs in his house would detect the anomaly of his arrival. He had minutes, most likely seconds, before someone noticed the difference.

Flipping up his mask, Steve reached into his pockets, finding the EMP tucked within it, and firing it. The lights that were still on in the house flickered off. That would disable the bugs in his house for a few moments. Enough time for him to slip in unnoticed, and short enough that the Peeping Toms wouldn't notice a thing.

Steve hurriedly stood up and took the suit off, folding it neatly and placing it in his locked dresser, next to his Captain America uniform. For just a moment, he lingered on the old uniform, fingers glancing over the slightly warm kevlar that he hadn't seen in years. Then, he shook himself, stood up, and took the rod and the instruments Shuri had supplied him with. He placed the instruments in the safe in the back of his closet, and picked up the rod to be disposed of.

He ended up burying it in the backyard. It was too radioactive to be in close proximity for any prolonged period of time, so he made sure to dig deep so that, hopefully, no one would come across it.

When he finally went back inside, he went to the bathroom to wash his hands, which were now caked in dirt, but found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror instead, a face that seemed to belong to his 2016 self, not reflecting how he still found himself expecting to look in the present. Clint had persuaded him to shave his beard and cut his hair before the procedure, and Pepper had chipped in with some of Stark Industries' newest tech, a sort of makeup that hid the bags under his eyes and newer scars on his body, and lasted for around a month. He is grateful for those preparations now, since plan C was in effect.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he washed the dirt off of his hands and pretended that the blood of Sam Bucky Wanda Vision Groot Sharon Fury Maria with flowing off with the grime, because now he had a second chance a chance to save them.

He kept his hands under the water for over 10 minutes, scrubbing furiously, but when he took them out of the water, his fingers were still spotted in red.

* * *

 _"We've come up with four main theories as to what will occur after we attempt to going back," Shuri began. Scott shifted, nervousness flaking off of him as he glanced around the room at the rest of the Avengers._

 _"Scenarios for success, right?" he questioned. Steve sat up as the small group sitting in the Wakandan throne room seemed to quiet even more than before, all attention on the two scientists. He couldn't help but notice how small Shuri looked from her place on the throne, so used was he to seeing T'Challa there._

 _Bruce was speaking now, and Steve returned his attention to the present._

 _"The first scenario we found takes place into account the multiverse theory," he began, leaning forwards. "Or, in other words, your mind and body will both, to put it frankly, jump into an identical universe at the exact point in time we'll be aiming for. You'll not be able to be in contact with the rest of the Avengers if you want to stay unnoticed, since your past self will be there as well."_

 _"I don't think I like that scenario," Clint put in. Steve found himself nodding in agreement. "We won't even change our own timeline; just someone else's."_

 _"It's a possibility," Bruce shrugged helplessly. "We have an idea of what to do when something like that occurs, but we'll explain that later. The second theory takes into account the singular timeline theory. Basically, your memories go back in time by themselves, and everything that happens past the point in time they arrive in is erased. Your younger selves will have your memories up to the point in time when you leave, and we will no longer exist."_

 _An uneasy silence. It wasn't death, not really, but erasing everything that had happened to you in the last 3 or 4 years almost felt just as wrong. But that was the singular timeline theory, and they could only hope that they wouldn't create a paradox if the theory was true._

 _Still, Bruce went on._

 _"Theory 3 is in the multiverse theory once again, but with a different variable taken into account. This plan takes the idea that prevent a paradox from forming or the universe from collapsing, your body and mind will both go back, literally swapping out your past self for your present self in that moment of space and time."_

 _"What happens the past version of the travelers?" Pepper inquired worriedly._

 _"Either there are erased from existence, or they are brought to our timeline to replace the future versions. Conservation of mass and all that. I think the latter is more probable." He let the words sink in before continuing. "The last theory is that we don't end up going back at all. Instead, your past cells will come forwards to this point in time. From there it will only be a matter of putting them back in their present day knowing what happened in our timeline."_

 _"We'll need to make a plan for each theory," Shuri closed. "Plans A, B, C, and D, for each respective contingency."_

* * *

Steve stayed in front of the mirror for a long time, pulling up the most recent picture of himself on his cell phone (rarely used; he'd have to change that) and closely comparing it with his current face.

There were some differences Pepper and Clint had been an able to cover up. His hands were still calloused from using blades and pistols rather than his shield, and he was slightly leaner than he had been in 2015. At least his face looked practically identical. Even after living in the 21st century for more than seven years, it still astonished him what they could do when they put their minds to it.

30 minutes after he'd woken up, his phone rang, displaying an unknown number. Steve let out a sigh of relief, and answered it.

"Hey, is this Luis?" Scott's voice rang through, with a false chipperness to it that didn't really fit him, similar to the tone he had used before they had left.

"No, I think you have the wrong number. Are you sure it was entered in correctly?"

"I think so…" Scott trailed off for a moment. "Well, sorry. I'm just trying to meet up with my friend. Have a good day."

"You too." he hung up, and let out a long breath once again. Scott was safe, out of prison, and staying with Luis. They wouldn't be able to talk out right, of course, since he most likely had his phone lines tap out, either by Stark or by What remained of shield.

It occurred to Steve that he ought to check the date. Although they had aimed from the short two month gap with Scott was out of prison and before the raid on Strucker's base, their method was untested and imprecise. Too early, and Scott would be stuck in prison. Too late, and the damage done to Sokovia would be set in stone. He knew that Scott was out of prison, but not if the raid had taken place.

Shakily, he held his breath, and open his phone's calendar.

April 2nd, 2015.

Steve had a sit down. Close. The rate on Strucker's base had taken place on April 10th. The Avengers would be called in on April 8th to be debriefed. He and Scott had little less than a week to stop that from happening.

Yeah. Maybe they could actually do this.

* * *

The plane fight was long, and Steve spent nearly every minute of it worrying, mostly about what would happen if someone discovered where he had gone, despite the fact that he had disabled all the bugs in his house and pretended to have gone out on a short weekend trip before leaving. By the time his fight had landed, he'd sufficiently worked up enough stress to make him desperate to get this over with already.

With only a small carry on (he'd only be staying for a few days, and all this weapons had been shrunk), he disembarked into Novi Grad International Airport, and waited near the exit, sitting on a bench and anxiously scanning the crowd and trying to avoid how this place had been destroyed for years in his past and could be just a couple days in this timeline's future.

An hour passed, than two. Steve chucked his phone.

It was 8:30 a.m. on April 4th, accounting for the time change.

Soon after, a ragged looking man entered the lobby, carrying a hiking backpack and a carry-on suitcase. Steve stood up as their eyes met, and Scott rushed forwards. The two friends caught each other in a tight embrace.

"I almost didn't really recognize you!" Scott laughed, voice strained from both fear and stress as they parted.

"Yeah. You know why," Steve responded, running a hand through the hair he died black, and remembering that he was wearing an outfit the accented his slimmer figure. Hard to travel when you look like me."

"Indeed," Scott replied. They turned and exited the airport, several other people leaving along with them. Steve had to pause for a moment as a cold blast of air hit him head-on. Scott had it worse, as he immediately started shivering.

"This is so much colder than California," he muttered. Steve snickered shortly in response as he walked down the terminal, following the signs to the rental car area.

* * *

They checked out a fast and agile car under one of Scott's false names (courtesy of Luis), and paid for by Steve (thank you Natasha) in cash. Having no time to book a hotel and severely jet lagged, they opted to just skip breakfast and sleep through the day in the car, parked out of sight in the countryside. Steve woke up first, around 7 or so in the evening, and drove them to a fast food restaurant, buying a quick dinner to eat before heading out to the mountains where Strucker was camped.

Several hours passed as they left Novi Grad and entered into the mountains. As they ascended, snow began to appear, first in shaded spots and then in a two-inch blanket.

Time passed. It was 2:00 a.m. on April 4th, and 5:00 p.m. in DC.

"It's hard to believe that we're actually doing this," Scott finally announced as the moon made its orbit across the sky, hanging high in the starry night. Steve spared a quick glance at his friend as he drove.

"Yeah," he replied simply. They fell silent for a moment before he spoke again. "Did you see Cassie before the flight?"

Scott swallowed thickly but nodded. Steve couldn't blame him. Cassie had been spared from The Snap, but Hope, Luis, and Pym had not. Leaving her behind had been them one thing that had held Scott back from going back in time, and he wouldn't have if someone else had been able to pilot or a fit into the Ant-Man suit reliably.

"I snuck in after Jim and Maggie went to bed," he murmured. A sad smile touched his lips. "She was so happy to see me. I told her I was going on a quick trip and was saying goodbye." His expression turned a bit sheepish. "I promised to get her a present."

"We can try." Steve humored him as they turned on to a small, one-lane dirt road. Watching Scott's gaze turn onto nothing in particular, most likely caught up in memories, he wondered what it was like to be a father. He knew next to nothing about the subject, other than it was difficult but very rewarding.

A couple minutes passed, then there came a small break in the snowy forest canopy. Steve pulled them over into the small clearing the break signaled, he and Scott getting out of the car, the latter bringing out his backpack as well.

"What kind did you get?" Steve asked, opening the trunk to get out their gear. Scott shot him a rueful grin, pulling out a small, clear container. He said it on the ground and expanded it. Immediately, an ant farm a foot or two tall sprung into being, with large, angry looking black ants that crowded in the sandy tunnels.

"Luis knows a lot of people," he remarked. "These are bullet ants. Not deadly unless they attack en mass."

"Perfect." Steve nodded in approval. Ducking back into the car, they took turns changing into their battle suits, the same outfits they had worn during the time travel process. Scott simply wore his Ant-Man suit, stocked with Pym particle disks and a communicator to control the ants. Steve's suit, made much more hastily and without Pym's knowledge to help, only had the capability of shrinking and growing. However, Shuri had, at least, managed to add his Vibranium gauntlets as detachable weapons, so that was a plus. All the more time to avoid using his shield.

Waiting for Scott to finish changing, Steve snapped his mask shut and double checked his gauntlets, extending them out into shield form and back again to make sure that they worked.

Once he was finished, Scott shrunk the car and Steve put it in his pocket. Releasing the ants from their cage, Scott stilled them and shrunk down to the size of, well, an ant. Steve watched as he expertly bunched up the ants, then knelt down so that they could climb onto his hand for transport.

"I've never been the biggest fan of bugs," he muttered, suppressing a shiver as Scott settled the ants on his body. The former thief chuckled through the communicator.

"Neither was I!"

"Keyword: was," Steve muttered. "You ready?"

"Yup."

Strucker's Base was approximately 15 miles away from the road. It was much too far to take the ants in any sensible amount of time, so Steve, with his super speed and endurance, would get them as close as possible, sneaking as close as he could to the castle before they took the ants inside and found the scepter.

Steve took off at a normal human's sprint through the forest, very careful of the living payload on his body. He and Scott kept up a near constant stream of dialogue during the journey, both to come up with details and contingencies for their plan, but also so that they wouldn't be too affected by nerves and their own thoughts as they approached.

Strucker's base loomed above them, a castle high on a clifftop that, even after all these years, was just as he remembered it. Though, he reflected as the thought flitted through his mind, that was kind of the point.

"Guards ahead!" Scott warned just as two HYDRA guards rushed into view, guns at the ready. Steve hardly stopped in his stride as he extended the gauntlets into shields and took them out without a shot or shout being fired.

"You all okay?" he asked after that ordeal, noting three more guards to the left and swerving to avoid their line of sight. Scott gave an affirmative grunt as they approached the base of the cliff side. Already they had been detected, though there was little way of avoiding that. Steve pressed his back to the cliff as the guns mounted on the walls started firing where he'd been standing hardly a moment before.

They were lucky, Steve mused as he let Scott guide the ants off of him and onto the cliff-side, that Strucker had been expecting an attack from the Avengers and not a single person. It was startlingly easy to slip in as a sole person, and it would be even easier with the ants.

Speaking of…

Four more HYDRA goons turned around the corner, guns raising as they came into view.

"I got this," he announced, making sure Scott had guided all the ants away from him before bringing up a shield to reflect one of the soldier's blast right back at him, killing the man instantly. He ducked a second shot, blocked a third, then swept the feet out from under the first guard, struck a second in the abdomen, and blocked yet another blast from the third—all in one swift move. The second soldier collapsed easily and the first fell on his back, while the third rushed in for the attack. He was painfully slow, and Steve easily snapped the man's neck, throwing the body onto the 1st soldier, who was just starting to get up. He dispatched the unconscious second soldier, and just as the first managed to get back up, struck him in the back of the head with the edge of his shield. The soldier dropped, and did not get up.

Less than 15 seconds had passed.

"Got 'em," he reported, stepping back to the cliffside before the guns on the castle could reach him. Before more soldiers could find them, he shrunk down the Scott's size, effectively out of sight.

"Um," Scott spoke up as Steve stumbled over to him, disoriented from the sudden size shift. Everything seemed too high and too far away, and he had to put a hand out on the rock face to steady himself. "I just realized. Weren't you the guy who didn't kill the enemy? I mean, back when you were an Avenger?"

"Shit," Steve muttered. Scott took one of his arms for stability as he tried to orient himself. "I'll have to switch back to my old fighting style. That'll take some training."

An ant brushed by his side, and Steve involuntarily flinched back.

"You get used to it," Scott reassured him, not missing the motion. Almost a dozen guards thundered past them, nearly throwing Steve off of his feet. "I knew we should have practiced more."

Steve found his footing and slowly let go of Scott, his balance returning slowly.

"Okay." he took a deep breath. "I'm good."

"All right." Steve couldn't tell, but he had the feeling that Scott with smiling underneath the mask. And ant nudged his arm, and he looked down at it, trying not to feel unnerved. He'd faced the Winter Soldier, the Chitauri, and the Black Order with hardly a flinch, yet there was something especially nauseating about seeing an ant's face close up.

"Is this my ride?" he asked. Scott nodded.

"Her name is Bulla. I'm taking Antoinette." He patted the head of the ant closest to him, and in return it _nuzzled_ his hand.

Steve would have stared if Scott could see it. "You name your ants?"

If Scott saw that he was a bit put off, he didn't show it.

"I get easily attached." He mounted Antoinette almost like one would a horse, except he laid down almost flat across its body. Steve did the same, gripping the head of Bulla as he did so. "Just hold on. Let's go!"

Bulla lurched suddenly underneath him, and Steve nearly lost his lunch as they rocketed up the cliff and towards Strucker's Base.

"I think I'll leave most of the Ant-Man work to you," he grunted as they went over a particularly large protrusion, leaving his legs dangling over what seemed to be a 100-foot drop.

"Good," Scott chuckled, steering them away from a mounted gun on the wall. "I mean, I'd like to keep my job."

It took them a good twenty minutes the trek up the rest of the way to reach the castle walls, but it took little effort to main unseen. When the rocky cliffs finally became smooth stone, Scott spread out the ants, trying to find an entrance to the castle in any form.

"Found one," he announced after a couple minutes. Steering the ants to the right, Scott drove them into a small grate that led into the ventilation system. Steve was quick to jump off of Bulla, feeling relieved to be on solid ground once again. Scott, already off of Antoinette, turned to him as the rest of the ants flowed into the vent.

"Where to, Steve?" he asked. At first Steve said nothing in reply, orienting himself to where they were in the base.

"Well, there's only one way to go," he shrugged, nodding to the darkness ahead of them. Scott audibly gulped, but didn't protest.

"The ants can guide us," he reported. "They work well in darkness. Better than we do, at least." He placed a hand on antoinette's thorax, and Steve did the same on to his own mount. Then they were off.

The light, faint as it was, from outside quickly faded into pitch black, the kind of crushing black that came with the sense of being in danger. Steve, used to it, was able to push the feeling to the back of his mind, but he could hear Scott's breathing deepen slightly over the coms.

A minute or two in, there abruptly was a flash of red light, leaving spots dancing in Steve's eyes, and a small explosion. Steve froze as Scott cursed. One of the leading ants had lost their head to the security system. Without a word, Scott sent out several ants to probe much more carefully for the sensor that had been alerted to their presence. When it was found, Steve destroyed it with his shield.

They went on carefully but with more urgency after that, afraid that the security laser would have alerted Strucker of their position. But they hit no more security, no doubt because the ventilation shaft was only four or five inches tall. Steve wasn't sure; his sense of height was deeply skewed from standing at only a couple inches tall.

Then, a light. Steve rushed for it, relieved that they hadn't gone down some dead end. Looking down through the ventilation grate, he saw a stoney hallway, with foreign voices speaking a foreign language in the distance. He did not recognize the hallway.

Hooking his legs on the bars of the grate, Steve ducked down into the hallway, hanging upside down by his knees. Down the hallway were two guards standing in front of a fortified metal door, and turning the other way, he saw some stairs leading upwards to a higher floor. There were two security cameras on either end.

"Two guards in front of a door, a security camera on each end of the hallway, and a stairwell opposite the door," he reported to Scott.

"Got it," came the reply. Scott sent out a couple ants to take care of the cameras, then jumped down himself, expanding to his full height as he went. There was a cry, a couple grunts, and then two final thuds. Steve followed Scott's example once the action was over, jumping down and expanding to his regular height. He stumbled once his feet hit the ground, briefly disoriented once again at the abrupt change.

"Good job," he congratulated whence he collected himself, noting the two unconscious bodies now on the ground. "Any idea where we are in the building?"

Scott didn't reply immediately, thinking. "Well, I'd guess that we're on the first floor, since we haven't gone up or down yet, and closer to the center of the building, considering how far we've went to get here. Door or stairs?"

Steve looked over at the door. "There's an electric lock on that. Breaking it would no doubt set off an alarm."

"Stairs it is." Scott moved to the stairwell, Steve soon taking the lead. They crept up the stairs slowly, listening for the guards and letting Scott's ants take out the cameras ahead of them.

There were a group of four or soldiers at the top of the stairs, and Steve took them out with ease. They went faster after that, knowing their time going undetected would soon run out, Scots shrinking back down to help his ants work better.

They hit a fork in the hallway. There were voices to the right, so Steve rushed in that direction, quickly coming up on two scientists talking urgently what he guessed was Sokovian.

He must have been quite a sight: a 6'2 man in a navy blue and vibranium jumpsuit with an ant-like mask to top it all off. As it was, the female of the to screamed until Steve slammed a hand over her mouth. Scott expanded to human size behind the male, pinning him to the ground.

"Do either of you speak English?" Steve demanded. There was a pause before the man nodded slowly.

"Some," he answered in a heavy accent once Scott removed his hand from his mouth.

"Where is the Control Room?"

The man looked up at him, completely terrified as he hesitated. Steep swallowed the uneasy feeling that that look gave him.

"There," the scientist finally mumbled, tilting his head down the hallway. "First door, on the…" he searched for the word almost desperately. Coming up with nothing, he mumbled a Sokovian phrase and wiggled his right hand.

"Thank you," Steve responded. Then, Scott painlessly knocked the man out as Steve did the same with the woman. And alarm started blaring overhead as he did so.

"They've noticed us…" Scott announced heavily, a tinge of fear in his voice.

"Took them long enough. We better hurry up."

They raced down the hallway and took the first door on the right, just as the Hydra scientist had told them. It was locked, as expected, so Scott use the ants to tear through the wires behind the keypad Steve tore open.

There was no hesitation once the door shuddered open, this part of the plan already meticulously planned out. Scott shrank down again as Steve lept into the fray, shields extended. The shocked cries of the soldiers and scientists were white noise in the background as he took out the man nearest to him, a large bodyguard with an alien gun. He ducked a blast, from another guard, blocked two more, and lashed out to kick a third soldier in the chest.

He took this instant to take in the situation around him. There were around 20 men and women in the room, scattered around it in desks and behind computers. Strucker was a mere 10 or so feet in front of him, standing by a young assistant behind a large computer. There was no sign of the twins.

Depending on how far away Pietro was, he had moments, maybe less. Steve rushed Strucker, easily knocking aside his rifle and bashing his head in. Hopefully, that killed him instantly; Steve wasn't the mood to deal with more sociopathic HYDRA agents. A moment later he was on the assistant (barely a boy over twenty), and knocked the kid out. He blocked two more blasts, and threw a computer screen at the one who had fired.

Two more of the men went down with a cry, then three more. Scott's ants at work.

Before he could attack any further, however, there was the barest blur in the still open door before a devastating blow was directed to his side. Steve fell to the ground, but gave himself little chance to recover as he brought his shield up to block the second blow that came that came hardly a millisecond later. Pietro was long gone by the time Steve had recovered enough retaliate.

"The twins are here!" he grunted into the communicator.

"I'm hurrying!" Scott exclaimed. "Distract them!"

This was by far most dangerous and risky part of their plan. Wanda was far more powerful than Steve, if it inexperienced, and neither he nor Scott knew much about Pietro save for the fact that he was fast. Steve would have to hold them off until Scott was able to escape on his own, a task made all the more difficult since you infinity stones, being singularities, could not be shrunk.

But Steve, at least, knew how to deal with Wanda. He had trained her for almost three years, and knew her tricks like the back of his hand.

Steve gritted his teeth, blocking a blast from a goon with his shield before being socked in the face and thrown back to the floor. He barely caught sight of the red sparks that signalled the arrival of the Scarlet Witch, and rolled away from the blast in time to avoid it. Then he was hit with yet another blow that would have sent him to the ground if he wasn't already there.

This was starting to get a little annoying.

"You didn't see that coming?"

Steve looked up, catching a single, crystal-clear glimpse of Pietro's cocky grin before he was gone again. And, for a moment, he was back in the shield helicarrier, staring blankly down at Pietro's corpse, knowing deep in his bones that he had once again sent a boy to an early grave.

That memory cost him. He was hint once more again, though this time he managed to retaliate in time. Lashing out with a foot, he managed to trip Pietro as he tried to dash off again, causing them both to crash to the floor painfully. Steve grabbed another shard of something sharp—he didn't check the see what it was—and took out the last of the HYDRA soldiers. Finally, he found the time to locate Wanda, standing near the entrance.

"I got the scepter!" Scott called. "I'm pulling out, Steve!"

Steve had no chance to reply as he caught a punch from a recovered Pietro, and barely managed to toss him into a set of computers, though careful to not seriously injure the boy. He was here to stall the twins, not hurt them.

Wanda reached out a hand, face impassive and emotionless, and Steve rolled behind a desk to try and avoid her. His face and abdomen throbbed from Pietro's hits, and he sucked in a breath, calming himself enough to jump up and enter the fight again.

But his body did not obey his mental command.

 _Shit._

Steve's eyes flickered down, and sure enough, there were the tell-tale red flickers of Wanda's magic. Pinning down her attacker was always one of her best and oldest moves, and one that was very difficult to avoid. And, Steve now saw that he'd fallen for the same move himself. So focused was he on distracting the twins, he ended up getting distracted himself.

"I'm compromised, Scott," Steve muttered. "Get out of here."

"Steve, no—"

" _Go._ "

The desk behind him was torn away, no doubt by Pietro, as he and Wanda spoke in rapid-fire Sokovian

"Mr. and Miss Maximoff," he greeted warily. The twins stopped speaking abruptly, caught off guard.

Wanda stepped into view, and Steve's heart skipped a beat. She looked so much younger than she had been in those moments right before her death, her face shadowed but not marred by the tragedy of her life.

While Wanda held him down, Pietro stepped forwards and tore Steve's helmet off of his head. Steve blinked against the sudden change in lighting, feeling very exposed. The twins were not supposed to know who stole the scepter. A change in plans then, considering he survived this situation. Wanda's magic gripped him like vibranium cuffs, too tight for even him to escape.

Pietro's swore as Steve was recognized, dropping the helmet as Wanda stiffened, her magic clamping down on him even harder. Steve raise an eyebrow at them, not surprised that they had seen through the hair dye that he had put on before the flight to Sokovia.

"How did you find us?" Pietro demanded harshly, his accent thick. "And how do you know us?"

"A reliable source," Steve answered, sure to be as vague as possible with it.

"The rest of the Avengers. Where are they?"

"Who said I came with the Avengers?"

Pietro blinked, shooting a questioning glance at Wanda. The young woman frowned, and stepped forwards, hands still up to keep him pinned down. Realizing she was most likely about to instill a nightmare, probably so that she could catch him off guard, Steve closed his eyes as her hand approached, focusing on his memories of him and Sam, back in they lived in DC, and even after that, during the few days he'd nabbed to stay in Wakanda while on the run, and prepared for the worst—

* * *

 _"Seriously?" Steve deadpanned, groaning as he watched Sam and the recently healed Bucky fight over breakfast. Sam was grappling for the milk Bucky was chugging straight from the carton, all while hogging in the cereal for himself. "Do I need to put you both in timeout?"_

 _"He wrecked my car!" Sam exclaimed, grabbing for the carton once again, as if that justified everything. Bucky, with milk running down his chin, simply shot him a scathing look._

 _Wanda, entering with T'Challa at her side, laughed._

 _"Leave them be," she advised him, using her magic to nab some of Sam's cereal. Steve rolled his eyes, standing up and leaving his friends to their fight._

 _"I ought to," he sighed. "How are you doing, Wanda?"_

 _"Very well," she grinned, and gestured to T'Challa. "T'Challa is setting up a meeting with Vision for me!"_

 _Steve blinked, surprised as T'Challa ducked his head slightly—_

 _There was a sudden change._

 _Steve, now two years younger, stood in a small, battered old Sokovian cemetery. Cotton-ball clouds were scattered across the midday sky, but there was a heaviness in the air that warned of incoming rain._

 _It was a small funeral. He and Clint had just placed a sleek wooden coffin six feet in the ground, and soon would cover it up once. Steve slowly stepped away with Clint following shortly after. Brushing the dirt off of his suit pants and wishing that the lump in his throat would fade away just as easily, he moved back._

 _Wanda stepped past them, in the simple black dress that she'd borrowed from Natasha, and knelt by the grave, murmuring softly in Sokovian, voice cracked and wavering as she did so._

 _They let the girl speak with your brother for the last time, more than happy to grant them their privacy. Steve spared a glance at Clint, noting how the archer seemed angry (at himself for only being human) and guilty (that he'd robbed a girl of her brother), the two emotions raging in his eyes. Steve himself said nothing, however, feeling many of the same emotions himself._

 _Wanda stepped back, face now carefully wiped blank._

 _"Does the pain ever go away?" she questioned numbly, eyes still on the grave._

 _"No," Clint answered. He stepped forwards and placed a hand on her shoulder. "But you learn to live with it."_

 _Wanda's shoulders shook, tears forming in her eyes. Clint wrapped an arm around her in silent comfort. Steve sighed, and looked down at the silent coffin._

 _"I told you to walk it off, soldier," he whispered. "Goodbye, Pietro."_

 _There was a violent rip in his conscience, and now he was 32 instead of 28._

 _Wanda to cradled Vision's grayed and immobile body, a look that was almost relief on her face as she crumbled into dust_

 _Another yank. He was only slightly older now._

 _Shuri laid out the diagrams for a machine out on the table, Scott standing close other side. Steve and Thor stopped their conversation as Natasha and Pepper looked up, surprised by the Wakandan's sudden entrance.._

 _"We're going to fix this," the newly crowned Queen announced, a fierce grin on her face that only appeared when she had made a breakthrough. "We're gonna go back in time."_

 _"That's impossible," Pepper shot back, immediately disbelieving. "Not without the time stone. "_

 _"No," Thor corrected her, drawing himself to his full height. "The time stone controlled time. It is not the only way to_ manipulate _time. Explain further, Shuri."_

 _Steve's heart leaped into his chest, and for the first time in months he felt something akin to hope—_

 _And then there was nothing at all._

* * *

 **There will be a Part 2, which will hopefully be up by sometime next week. Please review and let me know what you think!**


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